“We’ll talk in the morning,” he told her, and she knew he waited, watching as she left his side, and crossed the floor to her bed.
“Yes.” It was a whisper, but he must have heard it, for he closed the door, leaving her alone. She listened for the sound of his boots on the staircase, then the muted steps down the hallway overhead. The floor creaked over her head and she imagined him lowering himself to the mattress.
Her feet were damp and she wiped them on the rag rug beside her bed, then curled on her side, facing the window. His shirt held his scent, and she lifted it to her face, inhaling deeply. Then, nestled within its covering, she slept.
The man was tall, powerfully built and black as ebony. Totally without a covering of hair, his head gleamed in the morning sunlight. Eyes dark as midnight held menace, directed at her and her household. Jenny had seen him a few times, early in her marriage, and recognized him as one of the people who’d wasted no time in leaving Pennington Plantation.
“Y’all got my girl here, and I want her back.” He left no room for bargaining with his demand. Standing inside the kitchen, Jenny considered reaching for the shotgun hanging over the door. Whether she could pull the trigger or not was a question she had pondered before. Certainly, if it were a case of life or death, or Marshall’s safety, she would sacrifice human life.
But if this man was Eli, Zora’s father, there was a good chance she could reason with him. Perhaps his concern was for the girl’s welfare. “Is Zora your daughter?” she asked, and then flinched as he climbed the step to the porch.
“Damn right she is, and you know it, Miz Pennington.” His voice was a growl, his anger a palpable entity. “That sum bitch boy of Noah’s snatched her up and brought her here, thinkin’ we wouldn’t do nuthin’ about it. It takes ever livin’ soul to bring in a crop, and I’m not doin’ without my girl.”
“Caleb married the girl,” Jenny said. “She wasn’t taken from home against her will.”
“I didn’t say she could go—” his thumb jabbed his chest as the angry father drew closer to the screen door “—and that’s all that counts.”
“You’re Eli, aren’t you?” Jenny asked, aware of a presence behind her.
“Miss Jenny’s got nothin’ to do with your girl runnin’ off,” Isabelle said loudly from the kitchen doorway. Her bare feet moved swiftly across the wooden floor, her skirts swishing as she hastened to Jenny’s side. “You go find Caleb and talk to him. This is a business ’tween menfolk.”
Dark, thick fingers settled over the door handle and the door was jerked almost from its hinges. Face-to-face, Eli was an even greater threat, and Jenny backed from the doorway, wishing her hands held the shotgun.
“Is she in here?” Standing in the doorway, he peered over Jenny’s shoulder, his gaze raking the corners of the kitchen, as though the two women had hidden his daughter from sight.
“No, she’s not,” Jenny said firmly. “And I forbid you to enter my home.”
Surprise lifted Eli’s brows as he looked down at the slender woman. “You think you could stop me, did I want to come in?”
“Maybe not,” another voice said smoothly from behind Eli’s back. “But the gun in my hand says you’d better back off.”
Eli’s big fists clenched in front of Jenny’s face, and then his fingers splayed wide over his belly as Eli’s bravado melted. With a last hateful look into her eyes, Eli backed onto the porch and turned to face Shay’s long gun. It was a sight guaranteed to instill respect in the most angry of men, and Jenny knew Eli well understood the power of the rifle in Shay’s hands.
“Step down off the porch,” Shay told him, motioning with the barrel, and then his eyes found Jenny in the kitchen. “You ladies all right in there?”
“I never put a hand on them women,” Eli told him quickly. “I come for my girl.”
“If we’re talking about Zora, she’s with her husband.”
“I never gave her leave to get married. I want her back home.”
Shay shook his head. “I don’t think she wants to go. She’s doing just fine. No one’s keeping her here against her will, Eli.”
“You know me?” The man’s surprise was quick.
“I’ve heard of you. Noah says you’re sharing crops with Doc Gibson. You’d have done better to stay here. Miss Jenny would have given you your own land here.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Fact is, I’m doin’ fine where I am. All except for findin’ my girl’s snuck off and left home.”
“I want you out of here,” Shay said bluntly. “You come back and I’ll get the law after you.” Eli’s head lowered, his hands fell to his sides and twitched, then formed ham-like fists again.
“You tell Zora her ma’s wantin’ her home.”
Shay nodded gravely. “I’ll do that. And you tell Zora’s mama that she can come see her girl any time she takes a notion.”
“You runnin’ this place?” Eli asked, his words harsh.
“You might say that,” Shay told him.
“You livin’ in the big house?”
Shay’s eyes narrowed. “You stick your nose in where it’s not welcome and you’re asking for trouble, Eli.”
“You belong to the Devereaux bunch, don’t you?” Eli asked, his head lifting a bit, his voice curious.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I made a trip to the big town,” Eli said, “over in the next parish, and I seen a man there looks like you. Doc Gibson said he was Roan Devereaux.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shay repeated. “Now, get on out of here. Go tell Zora’s mama that her girl’s fine, and she’s not coming home.”
Eli stepped down off the porch, eschewing the step and stalking across the grass to where a mule waited under a tree.
“Man ain’t too bad off if he’s got hisself a mule to ride,” Isabelle said beneath her breath. “You mark my words, Jen, we ain’t seen the last of him. He always had a powerful temper. Made your Mr. Carl mighty mad once or twice, bein’ muley.”
“Was Carl ever harsh with his people?” Jenny asked, appalled at her own lack of knowledge. Before the day Carl rode off to war, she’d had little to do with the folks who lived in the cabins beyond the barn.
“No,” Isabelle said, her denial quick. “Eli never once took a lickin’, at least not that I heard of. And I didn’t miss much, not with Noah keepin’ his hands on things the way he did.”
“Eli’s an angry man.” Jenny watched as the mule set off at a fast clip, Eli’s long legs hanging loosely on either side of the animal’s wide barrel. His back was stiff, his shoulders hunched, and well they might be. Shay’s hands were still filled with the gun, and his attention never wavered from the big man.
“Shay?” Jenny spoke his name quietly, then stepped down from the porch. He was rigid, the gun an extension of himself, and she thought he resembled a warrior, armed and ready to do battle for those he’d vowed to protect. She lifted her hand, reached for his arm, then hesitated, shoving her fingers deep into her apron pocket. Touching him might not be wise. In fact, after last night she wasn’t sure where she stood with him.
“You keep that shotgun handy, you hear?” he said harshly. His head turned a bit and he glanced down at her. “The man’s got a full plate keeping body and soul together, and losing a field hand’s made him testy. Maybe I’ll send Noah over to talk to Doc Gibson. Is he a reasonable man?”
“I don’t know. Carl knew him pretty well, but I never met him. You won’t go yourself?” she asked. He’d brushed aside Eli’s reference, ignored the name Devereaux as if it was unknown to him. And now she waited as he turned to face her, his jaw set, his eyes dark and expressionless.
“I’ve got enough to do here,” he told her. His look encompassed Isabelle in the doorway. “You women mind what I say. Keep that gun handy.”
He strode from the porch to where his stallion waited, reins hanging loosely to the ground. He gathered them in one hand, speaking quietly to the stud. A
single movement put him in the saddle, and Jenny marveled at the agile strength of the man. Rifle in his hand, he rode from the yard, his big horse leaping the pasture fence effortlessly. Man and horse seemed as one as the stallion cantered across the pasture, then cleared the far fence. Jenny walked back to the porch, then stepped into the kitchen. “What do you think?” she asked Isabelle.
“I think Caleb got him a handful of trouble, is what I think. And we’re gonna get the overflow.”
Chapter Six
What the hell Roan was doing in this neck of the woods was a question Shay would have given a whole lot to have answered. He’d figured that distance was his ally, and now, Roan was within arm’s reach. Perhaps not today, he amended silently, but big Eli had certainly let the proverbial cat out of the bag with his remarks.
And Jenny had lapped up the information. He’d seen the light in her eye, felt the anticipation in her demeanor, and had been hard put to turn his back and walk away. The memory of her hand reaching out to him, then retreating with an awkward movement pierced his heart. Jenny should never have to restrain herself, never hold back the generous warmth that exuded from each gesture, each word she spoke.
That she’d retreated last night was to have been expected. He’d rushed her, tumbled her down into the lush grass and fallen on her like a man without control. Almost lost in the heat of her body, he’d been dragged from the edge by one simple word. Jenny’s “no” had rung like a church bell inside his head, and the pain of her refusal was more than physical, although there’d been that to deal with, too.
He should have known better. His label for her was as true as the loyalty in her heart for the man she’d married over five years ago. A marrying woman. And he wasn’t fit to be a husband to any female, let alone a lady like Jenny. His tongue found the sore on his lip and his grin threatened to split the small scab. Damn, the woman was wild. Maybe lady was the wrong label to pin on her. Anger and passion ran neck and neck sometimes in the race called desire, and Jenny promised to be a winner, should the right man claim her as his own.
Shay’s horse halted at the edge of the cornfield, and he watched as Noah and his sons walked the long rows, checking for bugs, snapping them between their fingernails and dropping them to the dirt. It was a task they seldom had time for, but this week marked a layoff for all of them. The cotton was chopped and hilled, and the kitchen garden consisted of neat rows of beans and potatoes. Carrots from the thinning process were small and succulent, and they’d feasted on them yesterday. Isabelle predicted beans for Sunday dinner, and Jenny said they’d celebrate by using the last of the smokehouse bacon to flavor them.
Noah raised a hand to wave in his direction, and Shay turned his horse down the row to where the men worked. “We had company up at the house,” he said quietly.
Noah’s eyes met his and he straightened, glancing at his sons who worked several feet distant. “Anything I should know about?”
“Eli came looking for his girl. I told him to leave, but it took a look at my rifle to persuade him.”
“Isabelle knows how to handle the shotgun,” Noah said, “but I’d rather she didn’t have to point it at anybody.”
“Can Jenny shoot?”
Noah grinned. “She can make it look good, but whether or not she’d pull the trigger is another story. Be more likely to wag her finger in his face, maybe.”
Shay couldn’t resist the image and a grin tilted his mouth. “She’s got spunk. More than I’d have thought.” His memory turned back to their first encounter. “Though I expect she’d have lifted a gun on me if there’d been one handy, the day I rode up on her.”
Noah sent him a knowing glance. “I wondered if she didn’t give you that split lip.” And then his head ducked, as if he’d stepped beyond a line.
“Not the way you think,” Shay told him, fingering the sore spot.
“You makin’ any plans, Mr. Shay?” Noah’s words were low, almost muffled. “Miss Jenny’s needin’ a man around here, and this place’d make a good livin’ for a family.” He motioned toward his sons, and Zora, who’d joined them. “We ain’t goin’ nowhere, Mr. Shay. We got some land and a good life here.”
“I’m not the kind to be tied down anywhere,” Shay admitted. “My feet don’t seem to stay planted long.”
“That could change,” Noah told him. “A woman like Miss Jenny could make a difference, did you decide it was time to settle down.”
“The man will never stay put,” Isabelle said firmly. “Don’t you be hangin’ your hopes on his coattails, Jen. He’s not gonna last past harvest. Once that cotton’s baled and weighed in town, he’ll be ridin’ out and you’ll be left holdin’ the bag.”
“Not the way you’re thinking,” Jenny told her. “If he leaves, I’ll be the same woman I was when he got here.”
Isabelle laughed, her brow arched, and her hands flew in the air. “And ain’t that a crock of you know what! You’re never gonna be the same woman you was three months ago, Jen. That man’s turned you upside down, like it or not. He’s got you pinin’ away like a girl lookin’ to be…”
“Isabelle.” Jenny spoke her friend’s name sharply, then felt her color mount with a rush of heat. Both palms pressed against her cheeks, as if she could cool her skin so easily. “What a way to talk,” she said tartly. “Shay’s a friend, and a big help to all of us. I’m sure he’ll be on his way come September or October. That’s all he said he’d do, just stay till the crop was in. And I’m not pining for anything,” she said staunchly.
Isabelle’s mouth turned down, her laughter gone. “I’ll still be here, Jen. No matter what comes or goes, me and Noah will always be here.” Her head tilted to one side and her dark eyes seemed to peer within Jenny’s soul. “It wouldn’t be all bad if you took what he’s offerin’, you know. The man’s got eyes for you, and you know it. He’d be good for you, even if it’s only for a while.”
Jenny shook her head and leveled a look at Isabelle, holding her gaze. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I can’t do that. All I could think of was my mama telling me that before I took a man into my bed, I’d better be sure I have a marriage certificate hanging over the headboard. I swear, she’d know. I can almost see her turning in her grave, should I take up with a man that way.”
“You thought about it, then.”
Jenny’s mouth tightened. “I’m not too old to know what I’m missing. I’m neither blind nor dead, and I’d have to be both if I couldn’t see what a prize package Shay Whatever-His-Name is.” She covered the pan of bread dough she’d punched down to size and lifted it atop the warming oven.
“Did you hear Eli? Out there, when he mentioned the name Devereaux?”
Isabelle’s knife slowed midway through the meat she was slicing. “What are you thinking? That Eli knew something?”
“Shay wouldn’t look at me. He shut me out and rode off.”
“You ever heard of the Devereaux family?” Isabelle asked. “Seems like the name’s an old one hereabouts.”
“No. But then, that doesn’t mean anything. I never heard of much of anything till I married Carl. We lived right close to home, just went to town three or four times a year, and Papa didn’t commune much with other folks.”
“You miss your mama, don’t you?”
Jenny’s sigh was deep. “More than ever, now that Marshall’s getting so big. There’s things I’d like to ask her about.”
“It’s a shame you’ve never seen your pa since after the fightin’ was all over with.”
“I don’t think it’s over with, yet,” Jenny said sadly. “There’s still so much hard feelings and downright hatred among folks. I suspect my pa doesn’t want to see me. He surely hasn’t made any effort. He didn’t even answer the letters I sent him. From what Doc Gibson said Pa just kinda pulled in his horns and let things go to hell in a handbasket. Most of his land’s laying fallow and his people just tend to themselves, those that hung around. There’s some that look out for him, but mostly he’s b
arely getting along.”
“Maybe you’d do well to take a trip there, while Shay’s still here to go with you. See how the old man’s doing. Might even ask him to come here and stay.” Though her tone was casual, Isabelle’s watchful gaze was anything but, and Jenny lifted her hands from the dishpan, letting the water drip where it might as she turned from the sink.
“You think that’s a good idea?” she asked, dumbfounded at the suggestion. A small grain of hope took root in her heart as she considered Isabelle’s words. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Marshall could have a granddaddy? Carl’s folks are long gone, and my pa’s all there is left.”
Isabelle shrugged idly, but her eyes were sharp with anticipation as she watched Jenny. “Wouldn’t hurt to think about it anyway.”
Supper was a bit of this and a bit of that, Jenny’d told him, but Shay managed to make a meal of the food she’d prepared. She’d watched him while he ate, barely pushing the food around on her own plate, her thoughts apparently on something that was making her tense and anxious. Marshall chattered on, oblivious to his elders, needing only an occasional nod or murmured word of approval to sustain his recital of the day’s events.
“The tassels on the corn are gettin’ all brown, Mama. Shay says we’ll be eating it in the next couple of days, and I get to pick the first ears for the house.” He drank from his cup, long swallows of cool milk, and then wiped the white residue from his upper lip onto his sleeve.
“Marshall…” She leaned toward him, using a napkin to complete the cleanup, and he grinned at her. “You must learn to use your napkin. Gentlemen eat neatly,” she reminded him gently.
“Even Shay?” he asked boldly, gazing at his idol with childish admiration.
“Even Shay.” The admonition was clear as Shay repeated the boy’s query, answering him succinctly. “Young men should do as their mothers tell them,” he added.
“Did you?” Marshall asked boldly. “Did you do everything your mama said?”
Shay’s face held a faraway look as he considered Marshall’s words. And then he shook his head. “Not lately, I haven’t. But, when I was little, about your age, I did everything I was told and then some. I did my sums every day and learned my letters and helped in the garden.”
The Seduction of Shay Devereaux Page 9