by Cindy Nord
“S’il vous plait, pardonnez,” Annabelle said, her lilting apology severing his erotic thoughts as she slid into place at the opposite end of the table. “We ladies sought to be au courant for you gentlemen this evening.” A dimple appeared alongside the smile with which she graced Ruby.
A heartbeat later, her gaze drifted down the long tabletop to lock with his. She nodded. Her upswept tresses caught the candles glow and trapped a glint in the raven curls that draped her bare shoulder. “’Tis expected to be fashionably late.”
Shit…he’d been a fool to think this evening would go easy on his already jangled nerves. Although the hangover had cleared his brain, the pressure between his legs was as potent as a pikestaff. On a silent curse, he drove the mesmerizing image of their coupling from his mind.
“Glad you could join us,” he eased out on a shallow breath.
“Je suis si heureux …” she paused, inhaled, then respoke in English, “I’m so happy to dine with everyone this evening.” The hypnotic glint in her eyes matched the shimmer of her diamond earbobs.
Brennen held her gaze, far from intimidated or out of his league by her well-bred spirit and bewitching appearance. His post-war life as a gambler had prepared him well, regardless the venue or the high culture of the clientele. Whatever her game, her intent, she’d met her match and more.
He lifted his glass in a mock salute before taking another swallow. More to her folly, she’d accused him of being an ill-mannered lout…a falsehood, of course. In fact, he’d perfected the demeanor of a most sophisticated southern gentleman and could match her tit-for-tat regardless the social setting.
If he wanted to.
And for some damnable reason, he found himself wanting to do just that tonight.
“You look bewitching this evening, Annabelle,” he said, sending his compliment down the table toward her with a practiced charm.
She arched a dark brow and delivered back a smooth riposte. “Why, thank you, monsieur. As I said…au courant.”
At the trace of amusement in her voice he understood.
She enjoys this repartee…
…as do I.
“You’ve done an admirable job of nursing your patient back to fine health.” He glanced toward the couple seated between them on his left. “And I understand you were able to stroll outside this afternoon, Ruby. Something about a visit to the summer kitchen, I believe?”
A smile curved her lips. “Yes, suh. We’s took our time, though. Miz Annabelle even guided me through dat bedraggled vegetable garden out back. She suggested that I might tend to dat whenever I’s ready…with your permission, of course.”
We have a garden? “An excellent plan. Begin anytime you’d like. I’m sure Ellie will be grateful for fresh vegetables, but for now--” He rubbed his hands together as he peered around the table. “--let’s eat. She’s created a feast for us this evening.”
Brennen reached for the first bowl just as Annabelle cleared her throat.
His gaze lifted to hers.
“Before we do that, monsieur,” she whispered with soft censure. “Do you not think we should offer a blessing for this fine repast?”
With a thump, he resettled the china bowl on the tabletop. Though she clearly wasn’t a nun, the sisters’ influence would’ve guided this request. His lips quirked. “Absolutely. And since you’ve the forethought to suggest, I’ll let you do the honors.” He wrapped his hand around his whiskey glass, his fingers tapping the cool side. Dear God, help me get through this meal without revealing how bedeviling this woman is. There…prayer lifted. He smiled. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She bowed her head and made the sign of the cross.
Jubal and Ruby followed suit.
In the silence, Brennen stared at her bent head, the dark hair parted down the middle and swept upward into a tidy chignon. He tightened his grip around the tumbler as desire for the woman sliced through him.
“Notre Père, merci beaucoup…” she whispered, “For the good food, as well as this fellowship. Amen.” She moved her hand to make the Trinitarian three as Jubal and Ruby chimed in their amens.
Annabelle’s simple blessing smothered Brennen’s lust-driven thoughts.
Her head rose, and she cocked a chin.
“Amen,” Brennen belatedly added.
Her smile returned, along with that shimmer in her eyes. Another twinge of desire peppered through him.
Women.
Stifling a grunt, he again reached for the dish and scooped out a generous portion of butter-drenched mashed potatoes. With a smile anchored firmly in place, he then passed the bowl on to Jubal.
The meal progressed without further mishap, and to keep the mood light, Brennen focused on inane conversation: the weather, the number of bricks they’d made so far, and finally, the visit by the sheriff.
Annabelle’s face paled. “The sheriff? W-What did he want?”
“Seems he’s entering politics and wanted my vote.” At the worry that still traced her comely features, Brennen narrowed his eyes. “Why the concern, ma chère? You’ve something to hide from the law?”
Her minsiscule laugh sounded hollow, even to him.
“Of course not. I just wondered, is all.”
Wondered my ass, Brennen mused. She was hiding something, a crack in her cool disguise. From the first, with her façade as a nun, hadn’t she proven she would wield the truth as deceit?
She poked at her food and then glanced toward Ruby. “But…enough about sheriffs. I suppose now is as good a time as any to share my good news. I would’ve told you earlier, mon cher, but I wanted to wait until we were all together.” She glanced at Jubal and then back. “Brennen wants you both to learn how to read and write.”
Ruby’s forkful of hominy paused halfway to her mouth. “To what?”
Jubal looked at Brennen. “Y-You wants us to learn, suh?”
“I do,” Brennen said, smiling.
“That’s right, both of you,” Annabelle’s voice warmed with excitement.
As her gaze met his, he saw the joy, but the nerves as well. Whatever secrets she held, his body didn’t give a damn. Frustrated, he glanced toward his foreman. “Acquiring a bit more knowledge can’t hurt, right?”
“Dat’s right, Mista Brennen. I’s ready. But…h-hows we gonna learn?”
Annabelle laughed. “Well, he’s asked me to teach you both.”
“Dat’s purely fine,” Ruby proclaimed. “I’s always wanted to learn da ABCs.”
Brennen raised his whisky glass in salute. “And now you will.”
“For when the new owners buy this beautiful place,” Annabelle added. “And I’ll begin our lessons as soon as Ruby feels better.”
“I feels good enough to learn right now. Let’s start tonight,” her patient said with pure joy.
“We’ll begin soon,” Annabelle said. “I promise.”
Shoes scraped on the floor as Ellie pushed open the door and reentered the dining room. “What’s all the ruckus in here?” she inquired, making short-work of clearing away the empty dishes.
Ruby’s face beamed. “We’s gonna learn to read ‘n write.”
“Well, ain’t that fine,” the cook stated, her arms stacked high with china. “Schooling’s a gift not to be taken lightly. Without it, I couldn’t cook worth a diddly damn.” She headed toward the door. “I found some bottles o’ port and brandy which I’ll be serving over yonder in the parlor along with dessert. Even had a wee nip or two o’ the spirits myself.” She laughed as she pushed her way back through the doorway.
Brennen settled his napkin atop the table. “Shall we adjourn to the parlor then?” He stood and Annabelle followed, the swooshing sound of satin rustling against the rush of his heartbeat.
“Thank ya kindly for the invite,” Jubal said, “but me ‘n Ruby, we’ll be taking our leave now. With your permission, Miz’ Annabelle, I’d like to have my wife return to our cabin at nights. She says she feeling much better.”
“Of course.” Annabelle
looked at her patient. “Do you need me to fetch you anything from upstairs?”
Ruby smiled as she slid her arm through the crook in Jubal’s. “No, ma’am. Ever‘thin’ I need is standin’ right here beside me.”
Annabelle smiled. “Then I’ll see you in the morning, ma chèr.”
Jubal escorted his wife to the entryway, and the door clicked closed behind them as they exited the house.
Brennen leaned his shoulder against the arched entrance to the parlor.
“Well,” Annabelle said, glancing up the staircase. Her lips pursed as she dropped her gaze to her hands. “I suppose I shall forego dessert as well.” She stepped onto the first wide riser and paused. Cloaked in shadows, the flush across her cheeks appeared almost scarlet. “But, thank you for…everything, Brennen. The lovely meal and the opportunity to teach Jubal and Ruby.” She smoothed her hand over the top of the carved mahogany newel post. “And for the chance to remain here a bit longer.”
An easy swirl of the whiskey in his glass laid a glint along the wall. “Afraid to be alone with me, are you?” Brennen softly challenged.
Her chin rose, a gesture he was beginning to recognize as defense. “Of course not,” she said. “Should I be?”
He shot her a slow smile. “No, but, if you retire early, that’ll leave more of Ellie’s cake for me. I mean, we both know how you are with apple pie, right?”
A grin flickered across her lush lips. “’Twas merely a tiny slice, monsieur.” She took another upward step, her gaze never leaving his. “And as I recall, you snatched the other plate before I could lay claim.”
The pleasure in her eyes stole his breath, which irritated him far more than her intent to end their evening. But, why had her face earlier paled when he’d mentioned the sheriff’s visit?
What are you hiding?
Brennen scanned the smoothness of her bare shoulders, then higher to her lips now tight with tension. “The kiss, then? Is that what’s driving you away so fast?” He forced another laugh, then sipped his whiskey, allowing the liquor to blister down the back of his throat. If only he could burn away the pull of this woman. He’d damn well welcome the pain.
Her lashes lowered, then rose, and her eyes – as green as a bright spring day -- narrowed. A rush of excitement hit him in the pit of his stomach.
“That was a mistake brought on by my fear of the storm.” Her words squeaked out as she pushed the whisper his way. “And a topic I refuse to discuss further.”
“Coward,” he countered, the burn in his chest now searing. Even as he’d uttered the word, he knew this woman was far from fearful.
“No more than you,” she said, chin lifting.
“Perhaps, ma chère. Yet, I’m not the one running upstairs.”
Her hands folded together like a mourning angel, even as the corners of her pretty pink lips curled upward. “No, that you are not.” She ascended another step, then paused. Their gazes met. “Instead, Monsieur Benedict, you are running from life.” With a rustle of silk, the darkness swallowed her from view.
Tension rolled off him in disgusting waves. Muscles taut. Chest rising and falling. Self-preservation wrestled with lust. He snorted, lifting his glass in the direction of the now-empty stairs. “Right you are again, Miss Annabelle.”
Brennen closed his eyes and focused on something solid. Real. Anything that would ease her stinging verity. As he’d done in order to escape the reminders of four hellish years of war, he again listened to his heartbeat, the repetition soothing. Slowly, he straightened. The lien. His gambling talents. The pull to return to the river.
As if rungs on a ladder, Brennen gripped each thought and climbed away from the exasperating desire to follow the woman upstairs. Yet, however determined his focus, a part of him damned his retreat.
Coward? Hell, yes. He was the biggest damned coward alive, surrounded by a houseful of people, but holding himself back. Bitter, and isolated, and still floating down life’s river going nowhere.
He hadn’t counted on caring for any of them...especially some scrawny non-nun who drove him purely mad with her truths.
Bone-deep anger seared through him.
With an infuriated exhale, Brennen turned and stalked into the parlor.
Chapter Sixteen
By the following week, the routines of the lopsided little household had been well-established. Annabelle’s mornings were spent helping Ruby and Ellie tend to their new garden, while she spent her evenings reading, mending, or perusing the ever-growing stack of bricks in the barn. After placing the blocks into storage, Brennen would return to the house, clean up, and then ride toward Owensborough without so much as a backward glance her way.
Only today, his ‘heading-into-town’ routine had changed - even though the men didn’t work on Sundays.
Dinner had come and gone, and Annabelle had just completed her first school session on the front veranda. A late-afternoon breeze wafted around her as she tried to ignore the brooding gambler sprawled in a weathered rocker at the opposite side beneath the massive curved front portico. He watched her every move, which sent an unsettling sensation through her veins.
She refused to look at him. Instead, she focused on her eager students, all the while praying that the heat swirling around inside of her hadn’t strayed outward to stain her cheeks.
Thankfully, her students didn’t notice her discomfort.
Nonetheless, she kept her class preparations simple. The difficulty of learning penmanship aside, the new slates they’d used fit the bill. Teaching Jubal and Ruby the rudimentary elements of the alphabet centered her. But, finally, Annabelle finished her lessons for the day. “I’m so pleased you found our first class interesting,” she said, directing her words toward Jubal and Ruby as they headed toward the steps.
Ruby paused and smiled back. “I never know’d learnin’ could be so excitin’…thank ya, ma’am.”
“Don’t thank me,” she replied, nodding toward a much-too-silent Brennen. “Of his own accord, Monsieur Benedict offered you both this chance at an education.” Though her words were truthful, a disconcerting heat seared through her that her students were leaving her alone with the scoundrel.
Silent during the two hour session, Brennen finally spoke, his words riding the back-end of a chuckle. “I well remember how I enjoyed my schooling years. But, I never once had such a comely teacher.” His laugh deepened as he pointed the two fingers gripping his cheroot toward Jubal. “One is never too old to learn, my friend. Don’t forget that truth.”
“I won’t, suh. And thank you kindly.” Jubal clasped his wife’s hand as they descended the front steps. At the bottom, he turned. “Well, I guess we’ll be seein’ y’all in da mornin’.”
“Until tomorrow…” Annabelle watched them disappear from view around the side of the manor house. On a sigh, she resumed her task of straightening her supplies. “Such a delightful afternoon,” she whispered, more to herself than to Brennen.
“They did seem to enjoy themselves,” he answered, his chair squeaking with each to-and-fro rock. The satisfying sound carried to her ears on the breeze.
“Yes, they did. And I did, too. I forgot how illuminating the study of the written word could be.”
Silence lengthened between them and she peered over her shoulder.
With one leg crossed over the other at the knee, and his high-polished, black leather boot reflecting a glint of the setting sun, Brennen looked every bit the part of a wealthy Kentucky landowner. He braced his elbows on the chair arms, and he still gripped the expensive cheroot between his fingers.
Her gaze lifted, connecting with his stare.
Exhaling a slow stream of smoke, he narrowed his eyes. “I admire your skills. You’ve as much talent for teaching as you do for nursing.” His words were deep and solemn and sent warmth into every tender spot inside her.
He smiled, which nudged her into responding.
“Thank you.” She paused and stifled the jolt of pleasure, never expecting such praise from
him. “And I-I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realized you’d planned on remaining home today. Otherwise, I would have taught them on the back veranda, or in their cabin.”
“No need to apologize. I liked listening. Who knew the structural components of the letter B could be so riveting.”
She swallowed back a silly giggle. He seemed so relaxed. And surprisingly, so was she. “Ah yes, the things one takes for granted in this world.”
The door opened. Ellie stepped out holding two glasses and a decanter filled with burgundy liquid. “Thought I’d bring you both a refreshing spot o’ port a’fore I retire for the evening.”
“Excellent idea.” Brennen said on a chuckle. “Yet another reason why I had the foresight to hire you.”
The old cook laughed when he sent her a quick wink. “I aim to please me boss-man, that’s for sure. Well, good night all.”
“Night, Ellie,” Annabelle said. “I’m looking forward to helping get the tomatoes planted tomorrow.”
Ellie offered a quick wave before disappearing inside the house.
Brennen arched a brow. “Tomatoes?”
“Yes,” Annabelle said, standing. She stacked the slates atop one another, and then slowly turned to face him. “While you and Jubal are off crafting bricks, we ladies have been busy creating one of the finest vegetable plots I’ve ever seen. Worthy of the envy of even the most prolific farmer in Kentucky, if I do say so myself.”
“Really?” Surprise registered across his features. He straightened in his chair and leaned forward, crushing out his cheroot in a small dish. “I’ll be sure to take a look at your accomplishments in the morning before I head over to the Knoblick.”
She leaned back against the table and interlocked her arms across her chest. “They’d like that you cared enough to check, I’m sure. And by summer’s end there’ll be a bountiful crop to harvest.”
Brennen stood and stretched, the rocking chair squeaking a final protest. On a soft exhale, he strode to the weathered sidetable that held the tray of port. The stemware rattled as he arranged them, then he filled both with the claret-colored wine.
Setting aside the decanter, he paused, and smiled at her again.