“I’ve also got the paperwork started on the transfer of the plantation, Nick, but we’ve run into a snag,” Justin said.
Nick motioned them on into the house, closing the door behind them as Justin continued, “They haven’t got the records at the courthouse updated yet, showing that your taxes are all taken care of. They did cancel the tax sale, but their clerk left without notice to head for California, and they’re still trying to straighten out a mess of paperwork he left behind. A few dollars under the table put your paperwork on the top of the pile, and they’re supposed to have everything ready for me tomorrow.”
“Fine, Justin. Now, does the reverend understand what he’s here for?”
Nick carefully watched Reverend Coglin’s face while he asked the question. To give him credit, the small man nodded and answered for himself, indicating he did. But his huge adam’s apple bobbed and his fingers twisted like snakes in the Garden of Eden around the back of the Prayer Book he held. Nick shook his head in disgust, but turned toward the stairwell.
“Let’s go up and tell Wendi what’s going to happen,” he said.
Justin grabbed his arm. “Whoa, Nick. What do you mean? You haven’t told your bride there’s going to be a wedding today? You haven’t asked her to marry you?”
Nick shook off the hold. “Don’t worry, there isn’t any problem. You did bring the license, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but--”
Nick caught sight of Sybilla down the hallway, and motioned for her to join them. “Have you . . . uh . . . .”
“She’s not responding,” she said. “What’s going on here? Are you taking these men up to Wendi’s room instead of speaking with them in your study?”
“Yes, and you might want to be there, also,” Nick told her. “Come along.”
He turned, hiding his grin. He didn’t know if it was possible to keep Sybilla out of his mind, but he schooled himself to think of nothing, just in case she tried one of her intrusive quests. Leading the group up the stairwell and down the hall, he went on into Wendi’s room without pausing to ask for admittance.
She was actually up on the side of the bed, and she flashed him a beautiful smile at first. Then she noticed the others and hurried into the wrapper Cecile was helping her don, gripping the collar tightly.
“Nick?” she asked.
“How are you feeling, darling?” he asked.
She gave him a puzzled look at his use of the endearment.
None of the group followed him over to the bed, instead, waiting by the door as though they sensed a dangerous atmosphere in the room. Even Cecile left him and joined Sybilla. Nick heard a couple undertoned whispers, but he concentrated on Wendi, who hadn’t answered him yet. In fact, she was staring past him at the group by the door.
“Nick,” she repeated, this time more in a warning than questioning tone.
He lowered his voice. “Look, Wendi, I should have discussed this with you, but I wasn’t sure whether Justin was coming out today or tomorrow.”
“So what? For what?”
Suddenly Nick wasn’t as certain he was doing the right thing. He hesitated, wishing for a moment he could read inside Wendi’s mind, as she could his at times. Immediately, he realized he didn’t need to read more than the spark of suppressed outrage in her lovely eyes.
“Why have you brought these men into my room?” she asked when he tried to think of his next words. “Isn’t that one man a minister? The one carrying the Prayer Book?”
“Oh.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t think that you might be uncomfortable with men in your bedroom. But you aren’t well enough to be up and about, so I didn’t want to bother asking you to dress and come downstairs. This won’t take long, and we can get it over with so you can lie back down.”
“Get what over with?” With gritted teeth this time.
“Wendi.” He lowered his voice even further. “Maybe you haven’t thought about this, but it’s possible you might be with child.”
“I’m not.” Flatly.
“Well, even if not, we did spend the night together. And I’ve got to get back to California soon. Before I go, I’m going to deed the St. Charles Street mansion over to you, and I’ll set up funds for you at the bank. As my wife, you--”
“Your what!”
Her gazed speared him, and Nick actually took a step back. He held out a cautioning hand. Had he maybe suspected this reaction from her? Was that why he’d held off discussing it with her and brought people into the room with him when he did? Hoping she might not embarrass herself in front of a group of others? Embarrass him?
If so, he was wrong. Almost dead wrong.
Injured, she shouldn’t have been able to move so fast, but she did. Grabbing the pitcher on the nightstand beside the bed, she heaved it at his head. He brought his forearm up in time to deflect it, but water showered over him, drenching him. He had to wipe his eyes before he could see again.
The pitcher hit the floor behind him, shattering despite the carpet covering the floorboards. Footsteps clattered down the hallway, but he didn’t dare look behind him to see if anyone at all had stayed to support him. Wendi was searching for another weapon.
“Look,” he said. Then he remembered something and plunged his hand into his trouser pocket, pulling out a small box. Ducking her next missile, a vase of flowers that shattered on the bedpost he dodged behind, he quickly opened the box and held it out to her.
“Wendi, look, I even brought you a ring. It’s been in my family for ages.”
“Get the hell out of here!” she shrieked. Damn, how could an injured woman have such a piercing voice? “Oh, if I only had my magic back! You’d be a toad right now! Worse than that, a snake! Yes, an ugly, slimy snake!”
“Now, listen,” he said, stepping out from behind the bedpost and realizing his mistake at once. She’d hidden a candy dish beside her, just waiting for him to make a clearer target. It hit him in the chest, and when he tried to grab it, it ricocheted off his hand and hit him in the mouth.
Both the ring and the candy dish fell to the floor as he lifted a hand, pulling it away from his lip with a stain of blood on one finger. He looked at Wendi in time to catch a faint hint of worry on her face, but she quickly masked it.
“You’re not hurt that badly. Not nearly as badly as you should be! Get out!”
“Fine!” he shouted in return. “When you’re ready to talk about this sensibly, you let me know. Until then, I’m going to be making plans to get back to California, where the people are rational!”
“I’ll talk about this again when hell freezes over,” she gritted. “And you can’t get back to California soon enough to suit me!”
“Fine!” he shouted again.
“Fine!” she snarled back.
* * * *
Nick stormed out of the room, and Wendi sat there in the silence, her anger slowly seeping away to be replaced by an intense, abiding wound in her emotions. How could he? How could he speak of wanting to marry her as “something to get over with?” Oh, she hated him. She’d never before in her life felt this deep, enduring hatred for another person. The moment the thought flashed in her head, she knew she was lying. It wasn’t hate--it was love. Thwarted love. He didn’t love her in return. All he wanted was to pay her off and leave. Pay her off in the form of giving her a house and his name, but not himself.
Thalia materialized in the corner of the room, and Wendi didn’t even care that the other woman was witnessing her misery. Not bothering to remove the wrapper, she sniffed and laid back on the bed, refusing to wipe at the tears streaming down her face. She didn’t feel like talking, and maybe Thalia would go away if she ignored her.
“Would you like me to help you regain your magic faster?” Thalia asked.
That got Wendi’s attention. She sat up, the quick movement making her head spin, but not nearly as much as it had the last few days.
“Yes,” she said. “As quickly as possible.”
“You have to want it
for the right reason,” Thalia warned, moving closer. “Not to use to turn Nick Bardou into a toad or a slimy snake, but to use to contact your mother and right this disturbed mess of karma.”
“The karma’s completely tranquil as far as the relationship between Nick and me is concerned,” Wendi said angrily. “I only want my magic back so I can finish up here and go home. I never want to see Nick again.”
Thalia smiled enigmatically, but nodded. “Then I’ll help you. Sabine’s been here anyway, because you wouldn’t be so chipper if she hadn’t come by and already started your healing.”
“You know,” Wendi mused, “if that’s true, I don’t know if I give a darn whether I help right this disturbed karma or not. Why didn’t she let me know she was here? If she was.”
“I truly don’t know,” Thalia said with a shrug. “Spirits on the other side know more than us about when the time is right for certain things. Maybe part of the reason you can’t contact her is exactly because you haven’t fulfilled your duties as to doing what you can to correct the karma.”
Wendi sighed and quirked her lips in disgust as she sorted through that convoluted statement. Right now, she didn’t much give a damn about her mother’s problems. A true mother would care that her daughter’s life had just been shattered. Would contact her daughter to give her what comfort she could, instead of dwelling on her own spiritual problems. Even dead, a witch had that ability.
Then she experienced a stab of selfishness, and laid her head back on the pillow. “Tell me what I have to do.”
“You’re not going to like it,” Thalia warned.
“I haven’t liked a lot of things that have happened the last month. What now?”
“You need to apologize to Nick and ask him not to leave. You need to keep him here in order to have him help you with the seance.”
“No!” She sat up, crossing her arms over her chest and ignoring the swirl of vertigo. “I’ll do anything else, but I won’t do that!”
“Yes. Yes, you will, Wendi,” Thalia refuted. “Otherwise, I won’t be able to help you.”
“He’ll never believe me, after the scene we just had. And I refuse to tell him I’ll marry him. I won’t lower myself to being a liar, even though by now the rest of New Orleans probably thinks I’m as much of a whore as they thought my mother was after the tales that doctor carried out of here. And I’ll never marry Nick Bardou!”
“You don’t have to go that far. Just mollify him. He’s hurting, too, you know.”
“Sure,” Wendi snarled. “The only thing on him hurting is his lip, where the candy dish hit him.”
Thalia sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down in the chair Nick always used and fixing Wendi with a resigned gaze. She let the silence linger until Wendi could hear each breath of breeze flowing in the windows and each brush of the lace curtains on the windowsills.
“Nick’s never fallen in love before, Wendi,” she finally said. “He doesn’t know how to handle it. He’s scared.”
“That’s for sure. He’s a coward,” she said unthinkingly.
“He feels that way about himself, too.”
Thalia’s words stabbed straight into Wendi’s heart. “What do you mean?”
“He’s blamed himself for years for what happened here. And for not being with his mother when she committed suicide. Maybe he could have stopped her, he thinks. Taken her away and taken care of her, somewhere she wouldn’t have faced the judgment of the society that was her lifeblood. Do you know he also blames himself for your getting hurt?”
“He didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“You don’t know Nick nearly as well as I do,” Thalia said, “despite having made love to him. I lived with that man for five years, and I knew him and his family all their lives. Their ancestors before that. I didn’t become this powerful of a witch by only living one lifetime measured in human terms.”
Wendi nodded a petulant agreement. Some witches could live longer lives.
“I know what made Nick’s parents the people they were,” Thalia continued, “and what made Nick into the embittered man he became. And you, my child, are not the right woman for him yet, so don’t worry about me trying to force you to marry him. That’s not what it’s going to take to soothe the karma.”
Resentment filled Wendi, and her glare clashed with that of the older witch. “I was enough of a woman for Colin. Enough of a woman for Nick to bed!”
“But not enough of a woman to make Nick want to stay here instead of running back to California,” Thalia reminded her, mixing hurt into the resentment in Wendi’s heart. “Make no mistake, Wendi Chastain. He does love you. More than he’s able to admit now. And there’s room yet for that love to grow into something better than what it is at this point.”
“Let me tell you this,” Wendi snapped. “I’m getting extremely tired of kowtowing to some poor man’s easily injured feelings. Or his inability to understand his feelings and come to terms with them and what they mean as far as a change in his lifestyle! I’m tired of playing second fiddle to some man’s desire to be nurtured and comforted at the peril of my own happiness. I let Colin talk me into getting married so he’d have someone to share his life and bed, then let him go when he realized he had made a premature decision. Realized he’d settled for liking and that love had finally walked into his life with Cassandra. I’m ready to have my own feelings be the most important for a change.”
“Growing up means understanding that things don’t come easy, Wendi. Things worth having are worth waiting for and worth building.”
“So, if I were a mature enough woman, I could understand that, I suppose. Understand that it’s worth waiting for Nick to realize he loves me enough to be a full husband to me and admit that to me.”
“Not exactly, but partially. It’s not totally your fault, Wendi. In fact, the scales of fault are not even balanced heavier on your side. Nick has a lot of demons to work through, and until that happens, he’ll continue to be an extremely unhappy man.”
She rose to her feet. “Wait a couple days, my dear. Let your body heal and your magic return. Nick’s not going anywhere, even though he thinks he is. And when you talk to him again, perhaps you might try to get him to explain his resentment towards his father.”
Before Wendi could ask her to explain further, Thalia faded from sight. It didn’t matter. She’d given Wendi scads of information to try to comprehend. It would take her days to work through all of it in her mind.
She laid her head back, willing her mind to start the examination, but falling asleep instead.
Chapter 21
Nick glanced in the mirror across the room. God, was that him? Sitting up in bed with his arms crossed, a stupid, petulant pout on his face? He looked like a child in a man’s body!
He glanced at the sheet covering his lower body. And he damned sure was a man, with the evidence to prove it this morning! His dreams had been filled with a strawberry blond witch, who appeared as solid as any woman until he tried to take her in his arms. Then she faded into mist, a high-pitched laughter sounding like that damned bell she used ringing throughout the room. His hardness was as much the result of a night of frustrated dreams as the usual morning state.
Sliding out of bed, he stomped into the washroom. Tried to stomp, anyway. More like limped, since his leg was advertising his restless night this morning. He’d barely been in the washroom more than a minute before he heard someone knocking on the door.
“Come in!” he shouted.
The door opened, and Nick continued stirring the shaving cream in his cup into foam. The hell with it. Whoever needed to talk to him could come to the door of the washroom. He had a towel around his waist in case it was a female.
Someone cleared his throat--a male sound--and Nick saw Julian in the doorway. “You just getting in from Candlemas?”
“I brought you a carafe of coffee,” his cousin said instead of answering the inquiry. “It’s on your nightstand.”
Nodding
, Nick swiped a brushful of shaving cream across one jaw.
“Look,” Julian said. “Can we talk a minute before you get involved in shaving?”
“I can talk and shave at the same time,” Nick growled. “What do you want?”
When Julian remained quiet, Nick gave a resigned sigh and set the cup down. Grabbing another towel, he wiped his face and walked past Julian when his cousin stepped from the doorway. On the nightstand, he found two cups of coffee already poured, a pleasant, welcoming mist of steam rising from them. He handed one cup to Julian and drank half of his in one swallow.
“Now.” He held the cup, ready to finish the coffee. “What do you need so early in the morning?”
“Do you realize that the some of the workers on both Belle Chene and Candlemas share relatives?” he asked.
“So?”
“I understand there was a minister here at Belle Chene last evening.”
“True.” Nick finished his coffee and poured another cup.
“Are you going to tell me why he was here?” Julian asked.
“It’s not important now,” Nick said. “If the people are speculating, let them wonder.”
“Damn it, Nick, sometimes speculation leads to trouble. It’s better to nip the rumors in the bud and put out the correct information!”
“Not this time.” Nick set his cup down without drinking. “I need to get dressed, Julian. If there’s anything else you want to discuss with me, meet me in the study after breakfast.”
Julian glared at him, but Nick knew he would never force a confrontation with the prospect of owning Belle Chene still dangling under his nose.
“By the way,” Nick said. “The rumor mongers should have also mentioned that Justin Rabonnir was here. He reported that there was a snag in the paperwork he needed to draw up the deed transferring Belle Chene to you. He should have it ready today, though.”
Julian’s jaws clenched, but he gave a curt nod. “I’ve already had breakfast,” he said. “I’ll be out in the fields if you need me for anything.”
He left, and Nick stared at the doorway for a moment. He couldn’t help wondering why Julian hadn’t asked him to meet Felicite and her family. Of course, he knew them already, but you’d think Julian would want to renew the relationship between the two families, if nothing else than because it was considered a proper courtesy. Usually a man paraded his betrothed in front of friends and family, whether he was actually in love with her or not. Marriage was as important a part of the Southern culture as the birth of an heir.
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