The Sugar Hill Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  This was not how I’d expected my day to end.

  Chapter Seven – Dominick Dufresne

  Leaving Livy took hours. It was a good thing I kept her at Yellow Pine, for I believed she’d follow me to Sugar Hill if she could. Did she actually believe that one day I would make her lady of my father’s house? She wept and begged me to stay with her each time, but of course I did not. Her tears were too easily dried with the promise of a gift upon my return. It did not take long to identify her true interests, but the arrangement suited me well. I couldn’t give her my heart in good conscience, knowing that someday I would leave her behind. I didn’t mind showering her with trinkets or even more costly treasures, as long as we knew where we stood. But not even the distraction of gifts could keep her from begging to make my mother’s acquaintance.

  She wanted very much to meet her, she explained. Livy longed for a formal introduction. If not my mother, perhaps my sister. I quietly laughed at the idea of either scenario, but Livy did not share my amusement. I humored her, telling her that I would make the arrangements soon, but I had no intentions of doing so. Not as long as I had a choice.

  My mother would never understand, not after her own tragic experience with my father, and my sister was far too innocent to be involved in such matters. I held out hopes that Annalee would make a good marriage with some nice young man in either Mobile or Baldwin County. Although taking a placee was a Dufresne tradition, it was also illegal now. And I couldn’t very well have Annalee caught up in a scandal.

  And then there was the matter of Champion.

  He knew about my liaison with Livy. In fact, he’d been the one to introduce us, and I’d easily fallen for her lovely charms. She had such soft arms and warm skin. I loved lying on her breasts after we made love, listening to her sing over me. She had hair as black as midnight, and it curled in wild ways around her face when she would sweat. I loved her fingers too; they seemed to know where all my aches were, and she wasted no time in bringing me great relaxation. When I was with her, I believed I could do anything.

  But I hated that my half-brother knew my secret. Although he had never openly betrayed me, I had the distinct impression that he did not like me very much. If it hadn’t been for Annalee, I’m sure he would have already told my mother about my placage arrangement. What did he care? Why did it matter so much to him? Yet he inquired about Livy’s health and in fact drank to it often when the two of us were alone. I didn’t have the stomach to ask him how well he knew my left-hand wife. I didn’t want to know.

  It was late in the afternoon when I rode home to Sugar Hill. I loved this time of day. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, and I could smell the promise of rain. The low gray clouds rolling toward the house made the place look like an ancient temple with its lovely fluted columns and bare porches. I clipped Brandywine to move faster and waited, expecting to see Annalee step out on the white porch to greet me. Mother didn’t often venture outside this time of day. She’d be in her Mirror Room hoping to summon up the ghost of my father. Ah, even that did not bother me this day. Let her summon his spirit if it made her happy. Love was a complicated matter, I thought, proud that I might have a little experience on the subject now.

  But an unfamiliar figure stood on the porch, a tall, slender woman I did not recognize at all. I rode Brandywine up the driveway, feeling more than a little disturbed that there was still no sign of Annalee. What was this about? Was this woman here to tell me some bad news about my sister? Or my mother? I quickly dismounted and handed the reins to Timothy, then bounded up the stairs to face whatever news I was about to hear.

  “Good evening,” I said. Perhaps this wasn’t bad news after all. I tried to remain hopeful. The stranger cut her unusual sea green eyes at me but didn’t immediately reply. How strange those eyes were, and so familiar. I removed my hat and waited for her response. It was just bad manners to refuse a greeting.

  “Good evening, Dominick Dufresne.”

  “My mother?” I asked nervously. “Is there something wrong?” I couldn’t keep the visions of my mother drowned in the pond out of my head. She’d always been a tragic figure, at least in my mind. From the tone of this woman’s voice, I wasn’t expecting good news.

  “She is in her room, where she always is this time of day. But you know that, don’t you? You’ve been up there with her, peering into those mirrors.” She shook her head disapprovingly, as if I’d done something wrong by humoring my mother. “She will be down for dinner, I suppose.” She tilted her head at me, her hands clasped in front of her. Her continued examination made me uncomfortable; it was as if she knew where I’d been and with whom. But what business was that of hers? I stepped inside and tossed my dusty hat and jacket on the table. Where was everyone? No Olive, no Ingrid?

  Time to get to the bottom of this. “May I ask your name and your business at Sugar Hill?”

  “Mineola, but you may call me Minnie, and my business is your mother. She needs someone to care for her while you sow your wild oats. She’s not well, Dominick Dufresne.”

  “How would you know that? You seem to know a lot about my family.”

  She stepped toward me, her hands still clasped in front of her. She wore a green dress, green like her eyes. “Well, I should. We’re blood, after all, young man.” She gave me a mock curtsy. “I know more than you could ever imagine.” A thunderclap shook the house and made me jump, but Mineola didn’t flinch. It was as if she were made of the stuff, thunder and lightning. She raised an eyebrow at me and frowned. “You’re awful jumpy for a young man fresh off his honeymoon.”

  “Where is my sister?” I whispered in an angry voice. I was done with this woman, and my cheeks were burning with embarrassment. I dreaded the thought that Annalee might overhear her. “Annalee?” I called, but she didn’t come out. That was a sure sign of trouble.

  “While you were away, your sister took a notion of leaving.”

  “What?” My heart pounded from the shock.

  “Dominick? Is that you? Dominick, you’re here at last!” My mother, the once lovely Susanna Serene Dufresne, came down the stairs. She was pale, her hair unbound, her dress untidy. Yes, something was definitely amiss here at Sugar Hill. I was suddenly glad I had listened to that inner voice telling me to go home.

  “Yes, Mother.” I stood at the bottom of the stairs and waited for her to greet me. She quickly fell into my arms and sobbed on my shoulder like a heartbroken child. I couldn’t understand a word she said. After a few moments, I slid her arms off my neck. “Mother, where is Annalee? This person,” I said as I nodded to Mineola with all the disgust I could muster, “says she left? What happened? Where could she have gone to?”

  “She left for Thorn Hill. She said terrible things—things I don’t believe—concerning you. She says you have taken a placee, that you’re going to leave me. Leave us both. She’s under that evil spawn’s spell! He’s tricked her into believing that he cares about her, that he’ll take care of her. But he’s there, and he’ll have her if he can! You must bring her home, Dominick! Please!”

  She sobbed some more and then fell on this Mineola’s shoulder now.

  I tried to remain calm despite my mother’s theatrics. It was no secret she hated my half-brother. “So you quarreled. But Annalee’s never left before. Are you sure she went to see Champion?” I couldn’t fathom that she would ever leave our mother.

  “No, she’s gone to be with him. She’s at Thorn Hill. Please go, Dominick—bring her home! Before she’s ruined forever!”

  “Why would she go there?”

  “Because he’s evil. He won’t be satisfied until he ruins her and steals her innocence. Please, bring her home!”

  Hearing such an accusation alarmed me. I could scarcely believe Champion would do such a thing, but then maybe he would. He did look too often at our sister and sometimes called her “wife” in a playful way, but I never thought it that strange until now. I certainly did not tell my grieving mother what I knew. “Why didn’t you call som
eone? You could have sent for the sheriff.”

  She answered me with sobs, but I couldn’t make it out.

  “I’ll be back, Mother.” I didn’t know what to say to Mineola, so I said nothing.

  It was pitch black out now. Despite the rain and flashes of lightning, I had to go. I headed to the stable to fetch a carriage. I couldn’t bring Annalee home in a storm. And there was a storm brewing for sure. My rage rose like an angry sea, and I couldn’t allow it to swallow me, drown me like the tempest above me threatened to do. I had pleaded with her to keep her distance from Champion, but she’d ignored my words of warning.

  I’d seen the way he looked at her, not like a brother admiring a sister he is proud of, no. I remembered that day two years ago at the pond, when she shimmied out of her dress and dove into the water with just her slip on. How she’d emerged like a mermaid from the water, laughing and happy, but his eyes…they weren’t laughing with her. They were laughing at her and at me. That day, it became crystal clear to me that Champion meant us nothing but harm; however, I’d taken the easy road. I lied to myself and by doing so failed my sister. Yes, he laughed at us quietly. But he mocked me openly. He hungered for Annalee openly.

  And now she’d ridden right into his arms. And what had he told her that would push her toward him? Had he told her about Livy? Surely he had, and in the most lascivious tones. But I would explain it to her. She would understand. She would have to, and she would have to come home.

  If it wasn’t already too late. I held on to Brandywine and slapped the reins furiously as I rode for Thorn Hill. The carriage would follow.

  As I gritted my teeth and blinked my eyes against the rain, I cried out, “Oh, Annalee. What have you done?”

  Chapter Eight – Avery

  My eyes flew open, and I sat up bolt upright on the parlor sofa. I didn’t waste time telling myself I just dreamed it all. I knew what I knew. I knew what I saw. The war between Susanna and Athena and Ambrose and Chase continued in the world of yesterday, and now there was a new twist to the tale—Champion, Dominick and Annalee.

  And what did all this do for me? I hadn’t learned anything that helped to establish my claim as the matrone. I looked down at my left hand and thought, No, but I still have the ring—and him.

  Look, Annie. Look who decided to join us.

  I got the shivers and jumped off the couch. And then the painting of Susanna caught my eye. It appeared off-kilter, just by an inch or so, like a big truck had shaken the house and rattled the portrait out of place. I glanced around the room. Nothing else appeared shaken. I dragged the table next to the mantelpiece, climbed atop it and adjusted the portrait. It was heavy and felt dusty. I’d have to make sure she got tidied up soon. “Oh, Susanna, what do I do? How did you escape him?” The frame was level now, and I stepped down to examine my handiwork. The small round clock beneath it began to play its song. “Good Lord! Is it six o’clock already?” I picked up my cell phone and looked at the screen. I’d slept through the night and woken up way too early.

  I cleaned up after myself and went upstairs to take a shower and change. And then do what? I guessed I’d wait until eight o’clock and then call Reed. Maybe he’d had a chance to look at whatever crucial paperwork Bray was bragging about now. I’d heard Reed was a legal genius—I sure as heck hoped those rumors were true!

  I took a hot shower and shampooed my hair. I loved the smell of strawberries, and this particular brand smelled heavenly. I enjoyed the luxurious foam and then began rinsing it. My hair had gotten so long…maybe I’d cut it. Yes, that’s what I’d do today, besides learn my fate. I’d go for a haircut. I’d have to call Summer and see if she had any recommendations. She rarely cut her hair, though. It was much longer and lovelier than mine. I let the warm water shower down on me; I lifted my hair off my neck and faced the showerhead. And then I felt the warmth of a kiss on my neck.

  And it didn’t startle me. It didn’t surprise me.

  I felt hands stroking my waist and more kissing down my back. As the foam slid over my body, so did his hands. I kept my eyes closed and enjoyed the sensations of it all. I didn’t want to see, just enjoy. Then his hands cupped my breasts, and he squeezed ever so gently. With one last kiss on my neck, he whispered in my ear, Avery…call me, and I will always make you happy.

  And then it stopped. He left me gasping in the shower, the water turning cold now. I quickly rinsed away the rest of the foam while my heart pounded like a rabbit’s in my chest. Oh God! I was playing with fire! Hadn’t he done the same thing to Summer? Hadn’t she wanted him more than life? And now here I was playing games with the devil. He was a devil for sure.

  Oh, Summer. Fate just won’t allow us to be friends, cousin. I stepped out of the shower and reached for one of the pale pink bathroom towels. I wrapped up my hair in a turban twist and reached for another to cover my body. Stepping out on the fuzzy rug, I shivered. Man, it was cold in here. And then my eye caught it.

  There was writing on the steamy mirror. An invisible hand was writing four words: Let me please you. I moved backward, watching in horror as the writing stopped. The bathroom door creaked open. It was an invitation of sorts. Although my body screamed for satisfaction, my mind ran in the opposite direction.

  Think like an investigator, Avery. Stop thinking with other body parts and use your mind. It’s never let you down before!

  I calmly closed the bathroom door behind me. So it had to have been Ambrose who first came to me in Atlanta and wrote on the glass. It was Ambrose who wrote on my bathroom mirror and bedroom window from time to time. I sat on the bed and tried to take it all in. It had been Ambrose all along.

  And then I couldn’t help myself. I said his name. “Ambrose…”

  How would Jessica do this if she were here? “Ambrose, if you are here, let me know somehow.”

  Nothing happened. I pulled the towel off my head, walked to my vanity table and dug in my bag for the wide-tooth comb. I sat down in the chair and began to comb it out. And for some reason, I felt like crying. And I did. My heavy heart unloaded itself. I shed tears I didn’t know I had. I cried over Jamie. Over Bray’s accusations. I cried for Vertie and Anne. I cried because my life had not turned out like I expected it to. And when I was finished crying, I pulled a handful of tissues from the box on my vanity. I dried my face and eyed the scissors.

  Yes, I could cut my own hair. Why not?

  As soon as I reached for the scissors, another hand was atop mine. It wasn’t cold or dead or transparent. It was a man’s hand, perfect and warm. I gasped and looked in the mirror. Ambrose was behind me. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, feel his other hand in my hair. He kissed my cheek, and my desire grew. I sat still and let him do what he wanted me, unsure what to do and unsure that I wanted him to stop. He slid off my towel and caressed my body, his eyes never leaving my face. Somehow, in just a few seconds, he gave me pleasure like I’d never experienced before. As his hands stroked me and his mouth kissed me, I felt the shock waves of satisfaction roll over me. I felt both limp and lit up like a Christmas tree.

  Surely I’m still dreaming! Perhaps I fell in the shower and knocked myself out. Oh God, am I dead? Is that how this happened? Suddenly fear overtook me. I swung around on the bench, and he was gone. No one was there. No one at all. Had I imagined the whole thing?

  My physical reaction to him had definitely not been my imagination. My face flushed, and I covered myself with the discarded towel.

  I turned back around to see if he’d reappear. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to kiss me again, to keep touching me. I even reached for the scissors again, but nothing happened.

  He did not respond in any way now, and I felt deflated. I got dressed quickly, opting for blue jeans and a comfortable button-up shirt. I dabbed on a touch of makeup, in case Reed showed up in person. In fact, I thought I heard him downstairs banging on my front door.

  Oh God, Reed can never know what I’ve done!

  “Coming!” I said as I rolled up my shi
rt sleeves. I could never go back to wearing those tight News Quarter dresses. That place might brag about equal pay and all that, but they didn’t mind parading the female newscasters out in body-hugging dresses. Yeah, never again.

  I opened the door with a smile, which quickly disappeared. My visitor wasn’t Reed but Bray Dufresne. He had a packet of papers in his hand. Obviously, the airport hadn’t found his clothing yet because he was now wearing a velvet jogging suit, like the kind you’d see in an eighties movie. “Yes?” I asked briskly. I was in no mood for more of his vague accusations.

  “I’m here to bring you this.” He slid his oversized amber sunglasses up on his head and gave me a snotty grin. “This proves everything I said earlier. I’m sure Reed will argue with me about it, and we’ll have our day in court, I suppose. You know how lawyers are. But I want you to know the truth. May I come in?”

  The last thing I wanted to do was let the jerk in my house, but if I could see the evidence myself, maybe I could accept the idea of leaving. Besides, I was pretty sure I could toss him out on his ass if I needed to. I didn’t invite him into the parlor even though I could plainly see he expected that kind of access. We stood in the foyer, and I opened the envelope and slapped it on the round table.

  While I began shuffling through the ridiculously detailed reports, he glanced around him like a carpetbagger about to take possession of Tara. As he strolled around the foyer, I ignored him and looked at the few pictures in the stack.

  “No pictures of Champion here?”

  “There’s one upstairs.” I didn’t invite him up, and thankfully he didn’t make himself at home. I stared at the paperwork, unable to make heads or tails of the genetic reports. He must have sensed my confusion and said, “I can see you don’t know much about DNA reports.”

  “No, I don’t, and I don’t need a crash course in them now. Why don’t you get to the bottom line here, Bray? What is it you want?”