“What do you think it is?” she asked Adele.
Sabine’s nimble fingers plucked at the ribbon, and the paper fell away, revealing the dark blue of a velvet jeweler’s box. Lifting the lid, she drew in a breath sharply as her gaze fell upon the emerald pendant that rested on a pillow of white silk. She raised the necklace from its box and watched it sparkle in the late morning sunlight.
Adele stiffened as she watched Sabine marvel at it, anxiety tightening within her. She knew, without looking at the accompanying note, who had sent the package. Troy Markham was up to no good with his tempting offers; she had known that the minute he had shown an interest in Sabine. The young man toyed with her like a cat with a piece of string, and fairly soon he would tire of her – just as soon as he had accomplished whatever heinous plan he had concocted.
Adele refused to allow it. Her daughter would not be hurt and she cared not that Troy Markham had the power and resources to put them all out on the street. Today she would put an end to all this, and lay down the law. She had no intentions of allowing a society gentleman to use her ward as his fancy lady.
“Oh, look, Mama,” Sabine said, mesmerized as she slowly drew out the enclosed note. “’An emerald charm for emerald eyes. Would you do me the honor of dining with me on Saturday? Troy Markham.’”
Sabine’s green eyes widened, words failing her. He had sent her jewelry – beautiful, fancy jewelry that in the past she had only been able to admire from afar. See, Mama, she thought, he’s different. He’s not at all what you say.
She could not accept the pendant, no matter how fervently she wanted it; it wouldn’t be right. But a dinner invitation! Surely there was no harm in accepting that!
“Mama, can I – “
‘No,” Adele countered sharply before the question was finished.
“But I haven’t even – “
“No,” she repeated firmly around the pinched white of her tight lips. “You can’t have it. And you’re not going.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Sabine said as she closed the box, her green eyes flashing with indignant fire. “I’m almost eighteen, Mama. Troy’s not at all what you think he is. He likes me, Mama. He’s nice to me. Why are you trying to ruin everything?”
“I’m not trying to ruin anything for you, Sabine,” Adele snapped. “It’s just that – “
“I love him,” Sabine shouted as she moved past Adele and headed for the stairs. “And I know he loves me, too!”
“He’s using you, Sabine.”
Sabine stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs and faced Adele, her eyes narrowing to angry slits.
“You’re wrong, Mama,” she said coldly. “You’re wrong.”
XXX
Sabine slammed the door of her room and fell onto the bed.
How could she? She thought venomously. How could Mama say such things? She didn’t know anything about love or romance or anything that mattered. All she knew was running this stupid store and ordering her around.
Well, no matter, she though as she angrily straightened her skirts with a snap of a hand. Mama would have nothing to say about where she was going Saturday night. Troy Markham had asked her to supper…and she was going to be there, come hell or high water.
XXX
Three thousand dollars. He must be mistaken. Troy counted the column of figures again to be sure his addition was correct. It was truly incredible. Over the past seventeen years or so his father had loaned a small fortune to the DuBoises, yet he had never collected a cent in repayment. A strange arrangement, to be sure, for he had always been fastidious with his accounts. There had to be some rational explanation for all this.
But there would be no immediate resolutions, for his father, Clinton Markham, lay ill upstairs with pneumonia and Troy was no burdened with the responsibility of running the business. It was not something he wanted to do, but something that was expected of him.
Muttering a curse, he leaned back in the heavy oak chair and wished his mother were still alive. His father had told him a countless number of times how involved she had been with him in all aspects of running the warehouse and shipping industries. Unladylike it was, her consorting with the rough types that worked the docks, but it was said she had commanded respect, and it was given to her by all.
Troy frowned, and the deep creases of discontent marred his handsome features. He couldn’t even remember what his mother looked like, unless, of course, he counted the portrait that hung above the mantel in the dining room. Never before in the twenty years since her death had he missed her, until now, when it seemed that all of life’s burdens had piled themselves upon his shoulders.
He closed the ledger sharply and scowled at its stiff paper cover. Enough of his mother. And enough of these financial accountings. Three thousand dollars was more than just a pittance, and he simply could not comprehend his father’s laxity in collecting the debts from John and Adele DuBois.
Well, he concluded, if this business was now his responsibility, then he would be certain to collect his due.
XXX
The cooling breeze of the late June evening caressed the gentle curve of Sabine’s neck as Peter, the Markhams’ driver, picked up the pace of the matched bays. Nervousness coiled itself into an acidy knot in the pit of her stomach, and her hands played restlessly with the small reticule that lay in her lap.
It hadn’t been so difficult sneaking out tonight, she considered as her gaze briefly met Troy’s before fluttering back to settle on her hands. The black iron work and the oak tree that grew beside her window had proven to be willing accomplices in her plan. But still, even though her heart sang out in triumph at being here with him, the small voice inside her head continued to insist that her desires were nothing more than a foolish girl’s fantasy.
“There’s no reason to be uneasy,” Troy commented and leaned across toward her.
“No, I suppose not,” she stammered, but the feeling would not cease. They were alone, and while the sweet anticipation of it had continually filled her dreams, the reality was far more unsettling than she ever expected.
“My cousin Maribel will be meeting us later,” he said encouragingly.
“Oh.”
The simple word sounded strange to Sabine’s ears – as though someone else had replied in her place. Suddenly she felt awkward, misplaced. And in her heart, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she knew she had no right to be here in this rich man’s carriage.
“I want tonight to be special.”
She fought back a smile as a surge of elation flooded her, dissipating the unsettling feeling within her breast. Oh, Mama, you were so wrong, Sabine thought as the uneasiness faded away. And I’ll say it a thousand times until you believe me. Troy loves me; really, he does.
“You didn’t like the necklace,” Troy queried after some length. “I notice you’re not wearing it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Sabine said in a rush. “It’s just that…I don’t think I ought to accept it.”
She loosened the drawstrings that held her reticule and drew out the jeweler’s box. She held it out to him in the palm of her hand.
Troy cocked and eyebrow at her inquisitively. He was sure she would fall for the trinket. They all did – every single woman he had taken as a mistress in the past. With a wry smile, he took the proffered box and opened it.
“Then would you do the honor of wearing it for me just for tonight?”
He moved across the carriage to sit next to her, and he fastened the finely crafted chain around her neck. He trailed its length against the warmness of her bare skin, hesitating briefly at the swell of her breasts, withdrawing when he felt her stiffen warily under his touch.
“You were a clever minx to sneak out tonight the way you did.”
“I wanted to see you,” she whispered.
Troy moved his hand up the sensitive inside of her arm, his fingers brushing against the side of her breast. She stiffened, and hesitantly moved away from him.
&
nbsp; “And I’m glad you came,” he whispered hotly in her ear and he held her attention with his gaze. “We’ll be dining at nine, but Maribel thought it might first be nice to meet at out other home here in the city,” he said quietly. “Do you mind? I invited some of my friends over. It would give them an opportunity to see how wonderful you are. It’s just a short walk up the street.”
He did not give her an opportunity to reply, but motioned for Peter to stop the carriage. Sabine’s head swirled with a million apprehensive thoughts as he helped her from the vehicle. He brushed her skirts free from the wheel. The warmth of his hands burned through the cotton of her dress as they rested on her waist. She closed her eyes and allowed him to step close to her, her heart quickening at his nearness.
“Peter, meet us out front around nine.”
“Yessuh, Masta Troy,” he responded and whipped up the horses into a smart trot, driving away.
A fleeting moment of indecision filled her, but she brushed it away. They were completely alone now. Just the two of them, just the way she had always dreamed. And there was absolutely no reason why she should feel uncomfortable. Troy had never made any improper advances in the past. There was nothing to fear; she trusted him.
But after a few steps she balked, a sudden surge of anxiety paralyzing her. She couldn’t go. She couldn’t possibly go and meet these people. What if they thought of her as nothing more than a harlot? What would she say? What would she do? Would they laugh and mock her at every opportunity?
“Is something wrong?”
“No, I – maybe – “
“You have nothing to worry about. My friends are a lot of fun; just wait and see.”
Sabine smiled, but it ended at her lips, never reaching her eyes. The unsettling comfort permeating her instincts persisted, though she attempted once more to force them from her thoughts. She breathed a sigh of relief when the feeling evaporated as Troy tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and looked down at her with a rakish grin.
“Come on,” he prompted, and motioned to the house in front of him. “It’ll be fun.”
They stood before the three story brick structure, light and laughter spilling out the open windows and onto the flagstone walk. A woman’s silhouette drifted across the fluttering curtain, followed by her coquettish giggling.
Anxiousness and yearning alternately played on Sabine’s taut nerves. Perhaps it would not be so terrible, she reasoned, with Troy at her side. Maybe, just maybe…
“Do you think you could wait a minute or two,” Troy asked, his lips casually brushing against her temple. “I’d like to get some paperwork out of the way first. Business, you know. There’s an office adjacent to the back of the house. No one will even know we’re there.”
Sabine swallowed hard and turned to him, gnawing her lower lip uncertainly. The very notion of being alone with him seemed so…well, so unnatural. It made her blood run cold.
“I’m not so sure….” Her voice trailed off. “About going, I mean.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
His words echoed in her brain. Of course she trusted him; but still, there was something she couldn’t put her finger on…
She silently chastised herself for thinking such things. Troy Markham had always acted the gentleman, and he had never given her reason to believe otherwise. Stop it, Sabine, she told herself.
“Well,” he repeated his question. “Don’t you?”
The laughter inside the house increased in volume, filling her headed, surrounding her. Suddenly it all seemed so surreal – this night, this house; it was as though everything was a dream and Sabine was observing it all in her head. None of it was real; none of it was right. But she didn’t want to lose everything she had because of some harebrained insecurity that was totally unfounded.
“Of course,” she told him quickly, and smiled as brightly as her thoughts would allow.
“Good.”
He quickly led her to the rear of the house and unlocked the door to the addition that had been built onto it.
“I’ll wait here,” Sabine said as she stood beside the door.
“Please,” Troy urged gently as he lit a kerosene lamp. “It could take a few minutes. Why don’t you come sit in the study while I find those papers?”
Reluctantly she agreed with a vague of her shoulders, and followed him through the rooms to the rear study. Though sparsely furnished, the room carried an air of simple elegance from its papered walls down to the patterned carpeting. How beautiful and different it was from the plain simplicity she had grown up knowing.
“Would you care for a glass of wine while you wait,” he asked as he settled her on the divan. He motioned to the bottle on the table next to her. “It’s French.”
The cork released itself with a pop and Troy poured the white wine into a stemmed glass. With a mischievous wink he passed it to her.
“To a beautiful woman,” he toasted.
Sabine blushed at his compliment and averted her eyes from his piercing gaze. So profuse his flattery was; she knew she could never become completely comfortable with it. But still, she longed to hear the words to hear the words that made her feel beautiful and special.
She sipped at the wine, quietly watching Troy rummage through the drawers of his desk, the muffled sounds of laughter coming from behind the plastered walls. The mellowed bitterness of the drink relaxed her, and she snuggled into the velvet padding of the divan.
“It’s almost half past eight,” she observed after a spell. “Shouldn’t we be going to supper?”
Troy looked up sharply. Damn. In his own plan to deceive her, he had almost forgotten about his seduction. She rested appealingly against the back of the settee, soft curves hidden beneath the folds of her gown. He felt himself harden and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized and rose from his seat. “I’m finished.”
He approached her, appraising her openly with his gaze.
“You are beautiful,” he commented as he sat down next to her.
His eyes dropped to the floor and examined the intricate pattern of the wool rug. “Please, Mr. Markham, I don’t think – “
His hand cupped her small chin and caressed her jaw with the pad of his thumb. He coaxed her emerald eyes to meet his.
“Let’s not be so formal,” he told her, his drawl becoming deeper and more sultry.
His mouth lowered on hers, capturing it, gently massaging, beginning the seduction he had planned so carefully.
Sabine caught her breath, and though her properness warned against him taking such liberties, she did not resist and returned his inviting kiss. His hand left her chin, leaving a trail of hot fire as it lingered down her throat and over her shoulders.
As she reveled in the heat of his touch, Adele’s voice crept into her consciousness: “…Men may trifle with overzealous girls, but they will never marry them.”
The words tugged at her, but the passion he had awakened would not heed her guardian’s words. She wanted him to kiss her, to touch her, to again feel those shivery rivulets that danced along her spine.
However, when she felt the tiny closures of her gown begin to give way, Sabine broke from impassioned embrace.
“Troy, I – “
“Don’t you want me to make you feel like a woman,” he asked, his words heavy with desire. “”Don’t you want me to share what I feel for you?”
She was afraid to tell him no; she was afraid to consent to what was to come. Adele had never told her anything in regard to such intimacy between a man and a woman. But she wanted him to like her, and if she refused –
“I – I can’t.”
“What?”
Sabine was taken aback by the harshness in his voice. She could not believe she said the words either. For so long she had dreamed of being close to him, but now, when it came down to reality, she couldn’t go through with it. It wasn’t right.
She tried to move away from his grasping hands, but Troy for
ced her to him, crushing her mouth against his.
“Say yes,” he demanded as he released her. “You know you want it.”
“No, I don’t,” Sabine retorted as she scrambled to her feet.
Troy caught her arm and spun her to face him. Wickedness glinted in his eyes.
“You listen to me,” he snapped as he thrust her against the wall, pinning her with his body. “You’ve made me wait far too long to start with this virginal attitude, Sabine.”
His hands snaked around to unfasten the closures of her gown, but Sabine drew back and struck out with her foot, striking Troy on the shin.
He let go of his hold immediately and she ducked under his arm to face him. Her hand reached up and tore the emerald pendant from its chain and threw it at his feet.
He laughed, a derisive laugh full of scorn. The sound of it jarred her senses, angered her. He had deceived her, just like Mama said. And she had been young and foolish enough to believe in him, to believe that his intentions were honorable.
See? Mama was right, the mocking little voice inside her taunted. Right…right…right, you stupid little girl. Whatever made you think he wanted you?
“I hate you, Troy Markham,” she spat as she made her way to the door. “I wish I had never laid eyes on you.”
He reached out and grabbed her savagely by the wrist, forcing her against him; his eyes, ice cold, pierced her soul.
“You’re mine, he persisted through clenched teeth. “You owe me.”
“Owe you,” she echoed sharply. “I owe you nothing.”
“You can consider it just one of several installments you’re repaying for your parents.”
She gaped at him incredulously. What an outlandish accusation. Her parents had never owed a single penny to anyone. It was simply another ruse designed to entrap her.
“Stop it,” Sabine said. “I’ve had enough of your lies. Let me go.”
His grip tightened when she attempted to wrench away, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her upper arm.
“Listen to me,” he commanded as he shook her forcefully. “Three thousand dollars your folks owe me, and I’ll collect it any way I choose. You better be ready to pay up, Sabine, or you’ll all end up on the street.”
Surrender to Love Page 3