by Bobbi Smith
How Claire kept the pain she was feeling from showing in her expression, she never knew. She wanted to slap him for being so blind about her feelings, but then she remembered her own advice to Brandy and managed to control her wayward emotions. She smiled at him sweetly as she answered, "That's a wonderful idea, Marc. I do love your children, and I would enjoy working with them."
He smiled quite happily at her answer.
He was completely unaware that he'd broken her heart.
Claire was up early the next morning and already at the breakfast table when Brandy came down. Rafe had already left to take care of business, and Libby always slept late.
"Good morning," Brandy said as she found her friend in the dining room. "You're up early today."
"I had a lot to think about. I'm glad you came down now so we can talk."
"Is something wrong?"
There was a silence; then Claire answered, "I don't know. I don't think so, but things aren't turning out quite the way I'd thought they would."
"Did something happen between you and Marc last night?" Brandy asked hopefully.
"Yes and no." At her friend's confused look, Claire quickly explained, "He invited me out onto the balcony. He said he wanted to ask me something. The moon was out. It was a beautiful night. I had on the teal gown...."
"Yes?" Brandy was eager to hear what had happened.
"Do you know what he wanted to ask me? He wanted to ask me if I'd go to work for him as a tutor for the children after I'm finished working for you."
"A tutor?"
"A tutor," she repeated flatly.
The two women shared a pained look.
"Obviously, this man is going to need some more encouragement. I thought the two of you working together on the reception would help, and I suppose it did a little."
"I don't see how."
"You have to be more optimistic, Claire. Think about it this way. He likes you and respects you. He realizes you're going to be leaving and he doesn't want you to go. His emotions are still raw from Jennette's death, and he can't admit that he cares for you yet, so he asks you to be a tutor so you'll stay."
"You're a romantic, Brandy. I'd like to think that you're right, but I don't know."
"What have you got to lose? You obviously need more time with him, and this is the best way to get it. It could be worse."
"I know. He could have realized I was leaving and merely said good-bye."
"Did you give him an answer?"
"I told him yes, of course," Claire said with a sad smile. "You've taught me a lot about going after what I want."
Brandy smiled gently back at her. "Some of me is rubbing off on you."
"Yes, and I'm enjoying it, too."
"How soon did you tell him you'd start?"
"Whenever you thought we were done here."
"Why don't you plan on staying with me another week or two? Let's just let Mr. Marc LeFevre wait a little while for his `tutor,' shall we?"
"Yes, but what do you want to do in the meantime?"
"Well, I've been thinking about taking riding lessons. Want to take them with me?"
After eating, Brandy and Claire sought out George, and he arranged for them to start riding that very day.
The days that followed passed quietly as a routine was established. Rafe was gone from early morning until dusk, returning to the house during the day only for the noon meal. At night, he and Brandy came together in heated matings, loving long into the early morning hours.
Brandy alternately dreaded his coming to her and longed for his embrace. She continually had to caution herself to remember why she was there, but there were times when for just a little while she was able to forget. Especially when she watched Rafe with her mother. As distant a man as he was, for some reason he seemed taken with her mother, and it was a mutual admiration, for her mother was constantly singing Rafe's praises to her. The trouble was, most of what her mother told her about Rafe was true, yet Brandy had to protect her heart. She knew what the future held for them.
Rafe returned to the house early one afternoon, his work in the fields done for the day. As he rode up the drive, he was pleasantly surprised to see Libby sitting in the shade on the veranda. The old woman's charm was winning him over, despite his best efforts to remain immune to her good and loving nature, and he smiled as he saw her finally recognize him and wave. He dismounted and was heading up the walk to the steps when it happened.
"You're back early," Libby was saying as she rose and started forth to meet him. She was concentrating on looking at Rafe and did not realize how close she was to the steps. She missed the top step and stumbled.
"Libby!" Rafe was only a short distance away when she fell, but he was unable to reach her in time to catch her or break the fall. He watched in horror as she landed heavily, and he was at her side in an instant. "Are you all right?"
She lay unmoving and the sight of her so hurt unnerved him. He scooped her up in his arms and ran up the steps, kicking open the front door and bellowing for George.
"What happened?" George came running from the back of the house.
"She fell. Send for the doctor! I don't know how badly she's hurt!" Rafe ordered as he took the stairs two at a time and rushed to lay her upon her bed.
George sent one servant for the physician and another to the stables to get Brandy and Claire. He went to Rafe as quickly as he could to see if there was anything more he could do. He found Rafe sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Libby's hand and talking to her in a soft, reassuring voice.
"Is she all right?"
"She's conscious, but she hit her head when she fell, so I want the doctor to take a look at her."
"I'll be all right," Libby said in a weak voice. "I just hate not being able to see well anymore...."
Rafe squeezed her hand supportively. "You're going to have to learn not to rush."
"But I was so glad to see you. I was so glad you were home. I just wanted to talk to you for a while."
Her words touched him deeply. No one seemed to care if he was home or not, except Libby. "Well, talk away. You've got me all to yourself"
They were deep in conversation when Brandy, followed by Claire, came charging into the room.
"Mama?" Brandy cried frantically, seeing her mother lying on the bed.
"She's going to be mad at me," Libby said aside to Rafe, sounding much like a little child in trouble.
"Maybe for a minute or two, but as long as you're fine, she'll get over it," he returned with a half-grin.
"What happened?" Brandy asked as she knelt beside the bed.
"I wasn't looking and I fell," Libby offered. "Rafe rescued me."
Brandy looked up at her husband, her eyes filled with tears. "Is she all right?"
"She's going to be sore, but I don't think anything's broken. I had George send for the doctor, just in case."
"Thank you."
"I'm just sorry it happened," Rafe said.
"So am I," Libby said with a grimace. "From now on, I'll behave myself and stay as far away from those steps as I can, unless someone is with me."
"That's a very good idea," Rafe stated firmly. "I like women falling all over themselves for me, but this wasn't what I had in mind."
Libby laughed at his dry humor, and Brandy managed a smile. They stayed with her, keeping an eye on her until the doctor came and pronounced that she was bruised but would be fine in a few days.
When he'd gone, Brandy and Rafe retired to his study downstairs. Rafe had just poured himself a glass of whiskey and had gone to look out the window.
"I understand now," Rafe told her as he took a deep drink of his whiskey. For some reason, he felt the need of the liquor's reinforcement tonight.
"Understand what?" Brandy looked at him curiously.
"I understand why you felt guilty about leaving her while you were working on the Pride. She's a very sweet lady, and she needs someone with her to keep watch so nothing happens to her."
"I had A
lthea, but if something bad had happened while I was away, it would have been awful."
"Well, it's good that you're here now."
He wasn't looking at her as he spoke, but was still staring out the window. Brandy wondered if he really meant it.
Rafe continued to drink all night, which was unusual for him. He did not understand the strange, troubling emotion that gripped him. He had felt helpless in the face of Libby's accident. It had torn him apart to see her fall, and he was angry at his own inability to stop her from hurting herself. The only good thing about the whole situation was that she hadn't been seriously injured.
Brandy had already retired when he made his way to bed that night. His mood was unsettled as he entered the bedroom. He undressed in silence, knowing she was asleep. But as he lay down beside her, he had to touch her, to feel her warmth surrounding him, to bury himself within her and forget everything but the sweetness of being one with her.
Neither of them spoke as he reached for her. In silence, he sought her lips, the softness of her throat, the fullness of her breasts. She held him to her, savoring the feeling of peace between them tonight. She dared not question it. She didn't want to ruin the poignancy of their coming together.
When at last he moved over her and claimed her for his own, she took him deep inside her, and they moved together, giving and sharing, until love's glory swept over them. They slept, their limbs entwined as well as their hearts.
It was almost a week before Libby was up and moving around normally again, and another week before the day arrived for Claire to move to Marc's. Marc came for her, and her parting from Brandy was bittersweet.
"I'm going to miss you." Claire gave her a hug.
"If you ever want to play poker, you just send word," Brandy told her.
"I will. I'll keep in touch."
"Please do. I'll be thinking about you."
"I'm so glad you and Rafe are happy. I'm so glad everything worked out for you."
"So am I," she answered, ignoring the bite of her conscience. Claire had come into this arrangement not knowing the truth, and she would go away still blissfully ignorant. That was good. No one else needed to know her torment.
Rafe left on a two-day business trip the following week, and the time passed slowly for Brandy. The days were quiet and the nights, alone in their bed, seemed interminable. Brandy had thought she would welcome the reprieve, but she missed the warmth of him next to her, the excitement of his caress and the ecstasy of loving him. There were times when she found herself fantasizing about a normal relationship with Rafe, of being a wife who was loved and who loved. Often, she found herself thinking of him, longing for his kiss or just wanting to hear the sound of his voice. Her mother talked about him endlessly, telling Brandy how wonderful he was, until she thought maybe he should have married her mother instead of her. When news came at last that his carriage was returning, she and her mother both hurried out to greet him. This time Libby stayed wisely back, waiting for Rafe to come to her, rather than risk a fall.
Rafe caught sight of them waiting for him and felt a stirring in his heart. He glanced down at the boxes he held and wondered why he felt so anxious about giving them the gifts he was bringing. He'd spent several hours the day before trying to find just the right present for Libby, and he'd finally located a beautiful embroidered shawl that would look lovely on her. He knew she didn't have anything like it, so he bought it for her without a thought, cost be damned. He'd also bought Brandy an engraved wooden jewelry box. He hoped she'd like it.
As soon as the carriage stopped, he climbed out and went to meet them.
"Hello, Brandy... Libby."
"Welcome home, Rafe," Brandy said softly, unsure how to act with him. Her heartbeat quickened at the sight of him.
"This is for you," he said, giving Brandy a quick kiss as he handed her the gift. Then he turned to Libby, and he couldn't help smiling.
"It's about time you came home," Libby declared, giving him a big kiss on the cheek as he went to her.
"Miss me, did you?"
"Absolutely. It was too quiet around here without you.
He grinned at her openness. "Here, this is for you," he said, handing her the remaining box.
"You brought me a present, too?" she asked, wideeyed at the thoughtfulness of his gesture.
"I hope you like it." He waited to see her reaction to his gift.
"I'll love it, whatever it is, because it's from you," she assured him as she lovingly touched the box and then untied the ribbon. When she finally opened it, her expression was rapt. "Oh, Rafe ...It's the best present I've ever had."
Libby looked up at him as her hand caressed the soft fabric of the shawl.
"You like it?"
"I think it's beautiful. You are the dearest boy...." She kissed his cheek again as she moved inside to show Brandy the special gift Rafe had brought her.
At her approval, he suddenly felt ten feet tall and strong enough to defeat an entire army. He glanced at Brandy and saw her poignant expression.
"Do you like your present?" he asked gruffly.
"Yes, it's lovely...." She was clutching the jewelry box to her heart, but it wasn't his gift of the box that had touched her heart, it was his treatment of her mother. As she stared at him, she saw a man who cared about small children, a man who was tender and concerned about a little, old, defenseless woman, a man who was a magnificent, responsive lover, a man who couldn't possibly be as harsh as the Rafe Marchand who'd blackmailed her into marriage.
Something blossomed within her, and in that moment, Brandy knew a terrible secret. Somehow, some way, this man had won her heart. She loved him.
Suddenly needing to get away from him, she started inside. "I'd better stay with her and make sure she's all right."
He merely nodded and watched her go, wondering at the sudden strain that had developed between them.
A few hours later they had dinner, and Libby came downstairs to the table wearing his shawl.
"I thought it might be a bit cool this evening," she told him with a proud smile.
They all knew the night was sultry and warm, but it didn't matter. Libby was happy, and that was all that mattered.
Later, after they'd eaten and Libby had gone upstairs to bed, Rafe went into his study to work for a while. Brandy had debated going on up to their bedroom to wait for him, but she so desperately wanted to talk to him, to tell him how much his kindness to her mother meant, that she followed him.
"Rafe?"
He looked up at her interruption, his expression questioning.
"I just wanted to thank you for being so good to Mama. You know how much she loves you, and your thinking of her this way is...well, special. Thank you. No one has ever treated her this way before."
"Your mother is one of the nicest women I've ever met. I like her."
"And your mother did a fine job in raising a son to be so caring and thoughtful of others' needs."
At the mention of his mother, Rafe recoiled. It was impossible for him to think of Libby and his mother in the same context. For a short time, he'd been enjoying the feeling of family that Libby encouraged, but at the mention of his mother, his past came slamming back with a vengeance.
"You know, it's strange," Brandy was saying as she slipped into the chair before his desk, "but you've never told me about your mother. What was she like?"
"There's very good reason why I don't speak of my mother."
Brandy heard the harshness in his tone and was surprised. "You didn't get along with her?"
He wanted nothing to do with the memories Brandy seemed intent on dredging up. He had to slam the door on them and on Brandy. He couldn't let her that close. He had been without a family for all these years, and he didn't need to change things now. He was just fine alone.
"You want to know about my mother," he said coldly. "What do you want to know? How she cheated on my father every chance she got? How she publicly humiliated him?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know.
" She heard his pain and rage and wanted to say or do something to help, but she knew there was nothing she could do.
"There's more that you don't know. Shall I tell you?" He didn't wait for a response, but went on with a vengeance, "The reason the one bedroom upstairs is never opened is because that's the master bedroom suite where my father and I came home and found my mother in bed with another man."
She gasped, shocked. She could imagine the effect walking in on such a scene would have had on a young boy, and she wanted to go to Rafe, to ease the horror that must still live within his soul. But his icy look froze her where she stood.
"And the room next door?" He gestured toward his father's study before she could speak. "That's the room where my father decided he couldn't go on without my mother after she deserted us. That's the room where he took his own life rather than face a future without her. So, you're right. I don't speak of my mother. She died several years after my father, and I didn't mourn the loss."
"But your family..." She thought he must have had aunts and uncles who cared about him. Surely, there had been someone...
"I have no family, and I like it that way. Don't think that I'm going to change, because I'm not."
"I had just hoped that-"
He cut her off. "You and I both know why you're here. There is no more to our relationship than that. If I'm kind to your mother while she's living here with me, it's because it pleases me to do so, and for no other reason. Now, if you'll excuse me?" He gave her a dismissive look. "I have work to do."
Coldly dismissed, Brandy quit the room, leaving him alone. She had gone in to see him with such high spirits. She had even entertained the faint, but desperate hope that he was beginning to have feelings for her, as she did for him. But hers had been a fool's dream. Rafe didn't love her and he never would. She managed to hide her tears until she was alone in their bedroom. She couldn't let him know that she cared.
The nausea started early one morning a few weeks later. At first, Brandy thought she was just sick, and she lingered in bed longer than usual that day. When it returned the next two mornings, but disappeared by afternoon, she began to realize the truth. She could only thank heaven that Rafe had left the house early enough so that he was not a witness to her telling behavior.