by Dana Roquet
“Now that is hard to believe.” Margaret interjected with a shake of her head, “I don’t believe we have been able to keep them home for more than a week at the most in the last few years. Bessie do I smell an unusually strong scent of lemon oil?”
“Yes missus, we have been planning a ball for weeks now. Stephen and Tim thought it would be nice to have a gala and we have been waiting on your arrival. It shall be this weekend.”
“My goodness a gala! And I have just the perfect gown. I had it made while in London.” Margaret laughed, “I don’t believe we have had a gala for at least a good year or more.”
“Quite right my love. What has come over those two?” Michael questioned.
Bessie smiled sheepishly, “Well it was my idea of course but I have an inkling that Miss Chandelle had a bit to do with their consent. You will meet her directly I suppose. She came to the island with Stephen. She is French and my word what a beautiful girl she is. Both of the boys are quite taken with her.” She laughed with a wink of her eye.
“Now it all makes sense.” Michael drawled, “That explains everything.”
Bessie nodded in agreement, “Miss Chandelle and her nursemaid are staying with us indefinitely. They are awaiting word from a pir…well I shall let Stephen tell you all of the circumstances. I think you will be quite surprised.” She snickered.
“I am anxious to meet this young woman who could keep those two at home.” Margaret marveled, “I had better go up and freshen before I do so—Bessie would you have a bath drawn?”
“Right away Missus Colter.”
Bessie headed off to make arrangements as Margaret mounted the stairs to the second floor and Michael Colter went in search of his sons.
***
Stephen pulled himself away from the study window and watching Desiree and Timothy put the birds through maneuvers on the back lawn and took a seat at his desk with a heavy sigh, staring at the pile if figures before him. He rubbed his eyes, then leaned back and looked about the large lonely room.
The week away from the island had done nothing for his mood and the two days he had been home had been very hard to endure. He had left here, determined to put Desiree out of his mind but it had proved to be more difficult than he had even imagined it could be. He could find no peace for she was constantly in his thoughts. Instead he had found himself trying to think of some way, any way to regain her! And for what purpose he argued with himself? She had intentionally made a fool of him with her seduction, or ploy as she called it. His anger flared every time he thought of it—anger at himself for acting the gullible fool. Besides since his return she had seemed content enough with the way things set. At every meeting her mood was distant and cool, at least matching his indifferent regard.
Stephen stood from the desk and moved to the window once more, looking out at the yard. He saw Timothy standing behind Desiree with one arm about her waist and the other outstretched with hers as they waited for Alexander to alight. The parrot swooped down from the trees and landed upon her booted arm, clutching with sharp talons and Desiree turned her face to Tim with a happy smile. Tim grinned and gave her a fleeting kiss upon her cheek and Stephen felt the blood surge and his jaw tighten convulsively. Although it was an innocent gesture, it was a privilege and a closeness he again no longer shared with Desiree and the jealousy was constricting. As he watched, Desiree snuggled against Tim’s chest, then looked to the bird, stroking it gently and was obviously delighted with the experience. Then together, the two lifted their arms in unison and the bird flew for the trees. Tim released Desiree and removed the leather boot from her arm.
“So that’s the lady Bess has been telling us of.”
Stephen looked around with a start to find his father standing behind him looking out the window. Deep in his own thoughts, he had not even heard to door open, “When did you arrive?” he asked, grasping his father’s hand in a sound shake and clasping his shoulder in a brief embrace.
“Just a few minutes ago. Your mother is freshening up. She is a beauty Stephen.” He declared smiling out at the two upon the lawn.
“Yes she is.” Stephen agreed, watching the two move toward the house.
“I see you have a mountain of work here—care to fill me in? Perhaps I could help out with some of it.”
“Of course.” Stephen turned from the window, joining his father at the desk, “Somehow it has gotten away from me lately.”
***
Desiree and Bridgett entered the dining room with expectant smiles in place as this was their first meeting with their true hosts upon the island. Stephen made the introductions and he smiled at Desiree warmly as he presented her to his parents, hiding well his dislike for her, she mused. She and Bridgett exchanged pleasantries with the Colter’s and Michael Colter immediately exclaimed his disbelief over their circumstances, which Stephen had related to him.
“And to think we can expect a visit from Captain Greaves! Well it is just hard to imagine.” He chuckled, “Desiree dear is it true you single-handedly captured the hearts of Greaves and every pirate at his command?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Desiree disagreed softly, raising a questioning brow at Stephen, “I do claim them as friends without hesitation.”
“Having met you I can understand why Stephen said such, you are most enchanting.” Margaret piped up smiling warmly and taking Desiree’s hand in her own for a light squeeze.
“Michael shall we all be seated?” Margaret suggested, gesturing to the table.
“Desiree, would you sit at my right?” Michael requested.
Desiree nodded her consent with a bright smile, taking his offered arm and all sat to dine. Stephen seated himself at the far end of the table to his mother’s left. Tim grabbed the spot beside Desiree and Bridgett was seated across from Stephen.
Desiree answered questions addressed by Michael Colter for the first few minutes of dinner, then sat quietly listening to tales of the Colter’s trip to England and felt a sad sense of loss as she listened to the bright conversation shared between Stephen and his family. Conversations like those she had once shared with him, she thought with regret.
She wondered about his kind smile during the introduction to his parents. Surely it was only for their benefit because were this just another night, dinner would have passed with him quiet and sullen, refusing conversation. She would have talked with Timothy and Bridgett and the three would have left Stephen to himself. Then he would have departed shortly after dinner, not to be seen again until morning.
***
The next morning Desiree was sitting upon the porch swing, pushing with a toe and setting the swing into motion. She closed her eyes for a moment enjoying the lulling effect when the front door opened and Margaret Colter emerged, outfitted in a casual dress and carrying a whicker basket containing a pair of gardening gloves.
“Good morning Desiree.” she greeted her warmly.
“Good morning Madame Colter.”
“Oh please—Margaret! No need for such formality.” She insisted, placing the basket upon the porch beside her and joining Desiree upon the swing with a contended sigh, “Smell that jasmine—just heavenly!”
After a few quiet moments Margaret patted Desiree’s hand, “I was about to take a stroll and gather some flowers. Would you care to join me?”
“Oui I would.” Desiree consented with a nod, smiling happily.
Margaret stood, “It is nice having you about the house. Almost the daughter I never had. Usually I must stroll on my own.” She laughed.
Desiree gazed into the dark sable eyes, seeing so much of Stephen there. Although her hair was medium brown, where Stephen had inherited his father’s light locks, the eyes were definitely those of his mother. “I miss the walks I shared with my own mother.” Desiree confessed.
“It was a shameful loss.” Margaret said gently, placing an arm about Desiree’s shoulders as they started off across the front lawn. As they strolled, Margaret produced a pair of shears from her pocket and be
gan collecting an assortment of fresh flowers, snipping the stems carefully.
“So you and Stephen shared quite an adventure.” She glanced up from where she knelt at a rose bed.
“Yes I am very grateful to him for all he has done for me.” She replied honestly.
“That son of mine—he never fails to amaze me.” She admitted softly with affection standing and inspecting her rapidly filling basket, “I have noticed a profound change in him this trip home.” She smiled at Desiree; fastening her with an amused expression. “You wouldn’t by chance have brought that about would you?”
Desiree laughed nervously, expecting to receive the woman’s wrath for his foul mood, “I am sorry I…”
“Sorry!” Margaret interrupted, shaking her head and taking Desiree’s hand in her own, “My dear girl I approve! My word he has been so congenial—more so than I have seen him in years!”
Desiree was astounded. His mood had been to say the least, subdued.
Margaret saw Desiree’s disbelief, “My dear—Stephen is an unusual man. Somewhere along the line he neglected to inherit any of my gift for gab or my passive nature. He did however inherit his father’s restless bent, even more so than his father actually, for Michael has always been a devoted homebody, a family man. Somehow Stephen has never needed anyone. He has been a sailor and out to sea since his fifteenth year and has never called even this island home. Content to sail about the world, doing Lord knows what!” she laughed, “His visits are always brief and without many words spoken. He is just home long enough to set his work in order and then he is off again. We—he, Michael and myself have never had much of a repore but now, all at once, he is full of conversation!”
She looked toward the house and Desiree followed her gaze, seeing Stephen striding toward the stables. He waved and Margaret waved in return with adoration upon her face, “Oh he is a fine man.” she continued, “Decent and kind as they come but I have always thought his life seemed—I suppose I would have to say lonely.”
“Really?” Desiree asked in surprise, “I don’t mean to sound as though I am an authority on your son of course—but I have never known him to seem lonely and your other comments—he is so witty, fun-loving and even silly at times!” Desiree shrugged with a timid smile.
Margaret laughed, lifting her brows in doubt, “Now a word that would describe Stephen Colter would not be fun-loving! He is so businesslike at all times. His idea of fun, his closest semblance to enjoyment would have to be the brawls! Lord how he does love a good fight.”
“He does?” Desiree asked in amazement. How could he be so different from what his own mother thought him to be? Or had he acted so witty and carefree for her benefit, acting contrary to his nature?
“You see Desiree dear? You have changed Stephen tremendously and are not even aware of the fact.” Margaret laughed as they started off once more.
***
Another two days passed and it was then the day before the ball. Desiree sat at the dinner table with the Colter’s, Timothy and Bridgett, where Stephen was suspiciously absent. He was never about in the evenings but he always, at least, endured dinner in her presence. Desiree could not help but wonder where he could be tonight. Perhaps his dislike of sharing any time with her had now grown to include meals and he would go without or eat his evening fare in town in order to avoid her.
This night Desiree was not the best of company anyway. She could not seem to bring herself to even sample her meal and she felt her stomach churning with the aroma of her fare. Finally she had to excuse herself. Smiling weakly at Bridgett and assuring her that she would be fine, she bid a good night to the Colter’s, retiring to her rooms.
She entered her room with her stomach heaving and lay across her bed until the nausea passed and then rose, pouring cool water into the basin at her washstand; splashing her face and neck with the cool liquid and patting herself dry with a towel. She strained to loose the laces at the back of her gown, drew her shoulders forward and allowed the dress to slip to the floor, stepping out of it. Standing before the mirror, she slipped out of her underclothes tossing them across her bed and then studied her naked image.
Her violet eyes stared back at her, large and distinct. She tested the flesh of her slightly enlarged breasts which were firm and pale white in contrast to the rosy peaks. She loosed her hair, sending it tumbling to hang about her body, then turned to the side, looking into the mirror as her hand moved down over her flat stomach that, as of yet, gave no evidence of the child who grew within. She could no longer deny it to herself. She was pregnant. It was early yet, the second month just missed, but she knew. The swollen breasts, coupled with the months missed and the fits of nausea gave undeniable proof of that.
She donned a soft mint green satin gown, with thin delicate straps and a low cut bodice, noting the tight fit over her bust and then sat upon a small settee, pulling her feet up beneath her. Her arm rested upon the back of the settee and she ran her fingers through the strands of hair at her temple, closing her eyes.
She had made a shambles of everything, she thought dejectedly and now it seemed she would pay dearly. How could she have thrown Stephen into the arms of another woman so thoughtlessly? He might well be with Vanessa this very moment and she had no one to blame but herself for that.
Her mind wandered back over the last bitter conflict they had shared before his leaving for Saint George and she felt almost physically ill thinking about all she had said and done that day. He had come to her room to apologize for that woman’s behavior when he had done nothing to apologize for. He had sworn to her that nothing was between he and Vanessa and she had chosen to ignore every word he said and cast him away.
She thought now of telling him of the babe but quickly decided against it. That would be a trap and she would not try and force him into marriage. He might even offer, although no mention of marriage had come up except for their discussion while still on the Windward and then again, he might well laugh in her face and cast her away. She would not blame him if he did but she could not stand the pain; if she were to go to him, only to have him deny any responsibility for his own child. To bear his child with the knowledge that he hated her and his offspring would be too devastating. No—she would rather he not know. She would go home to France and bear her bastard alone rather than have the echoing memory of his laughter in her ears.
She would make an effort tomorrow night to speak with him and mend their differences and if she could somehow heal the wounds, only then would she tell him of the baby. She knew him and had once had his trust and gentler side. She must find that side of him once more or she would keep her secret forever. If she could break through that wall that had been constructed between them, she vowed she would declare her love for him and give him once more all they had shared in the past. Vanessa Haines and all the others could go to the devil! Stephen would be so exhausted by the love and passion she would shower upon him that he would not have the energy to seek out another. She loved him. She carried his child. Surely those were reason enough to swallow her pride and make a last effort to reconcile.
Desiree stood from the settee and moved out of her rooms, walking onto the balcony and looking out on the darkening lawn as the night closed in. She felt exhilarated and sat contentedly in a chair to watch the sun shine its last rays upon the island. She whispered aloud, “You shall be mine once more Stephen and I shall not take any less than your love.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It was a little after two when Desiree was awakened by the sound of a thud and a curse. She sat up in bed and the moonlight illuminated a slightly staggering Stephen heaving himself from the chair he had apparently tripped over, falling sideways into the seat. He moved toward the bed once more in a slow deliberate stride, pausing when he saw that she was sitting up, watching him.
“Don’t just sit there! Light a candle blast it! I have a few things to say and I want to see your face when I say them.”
He was obviously drunk and Desiree hu
rried to obey his command, determined to belay his ire. The candle flickered light across his face and the glazed eyes told of an abundance of drink this night. He came closer, leaning a shoulder against the bedpost and loosened his stock, watching her intently. She sat back against a pillow and patted the bed next to her, offering him a seat. He did not move. His face was totally void of expression.
Stephen relished the sight of the well filled gown and the satiny flesh exposed to his gaze and then he leaned his head against the bedpost and grinned foolishly.
Desiree smiled softly in return, waiting expectantly for some remark. She thought he might actually be in a jovial mood after all until he opened his mouth to speak.
“There she sits—all sweet and beckoning. Hoping I will play her game another hand. Tsk…Tsk…sorry to disappoint you my dear but I no longer wish to play.” The grin dropped and was replaced in an instant by a deadly glare, “I told you once I was not a young boy willing to admire you from afar and now I wish to God I had been! You seem to enjoy having me grovel at your feet—constantly spouting forth—soothing your fears and insecurities! Tell me Desiree—who is to sooth mine?” He thumped his chest soundly and laughed. “But then that seems not to concern you in the least! You grace me with your charm and supposed warmth, baring those silken breasts and spreading those lovely thighs to admit me at your leisure but the slightest provocation, whether the circumstances are truth or misunderstanding and you recall that charm, that warmth and deny me any right to you without a thought. Just like that!” he snapped his fingers.
“Stephen please…”
“Be quiet!” he cut her off sharply, slamming a hand against the bedpost and causing the entire bed to jolt, “I did not come here to listen to a word you have to say! This is my turn and you will be quiet.” He hissed.