The Lady's Hand

by Bobbi Smith

  Frantic, Brandy counted the days since her last womanly time, and there could be no denying the truth of it. She was with child. She had already missed a cycle.

  A sense of gloom and crushing despair overcame her. She wanted her child her child and Rafe's child. Yet the bargain she'd made would force her to give up the baby. She could tell no one of her condition-not her mother, not Rafe, not the servants. She had to pretend this wasn't happening and try to find a way to escape what fate had dealt her. There had to be a way out, if only she could find it.

  Night after night, she prayed fervently for some idea to free herself - a plan, a way to buy her way out of the debt that bound her, a way to claim freedom for herself and her child. It all came down to money. She needed money if she was to save the baby, and money was the one thing she did not have.

  It was then that she remembered her encounter with Sam Foster the night of their reception at Marc's home. He had told her if she ever wanted to get up a poker game, just to let him know.

  Poker... poker... That would be her salvation, she just knew it.

  Brandy began to plot. If she was careful, she could gather enough cash around the house to start the game. The big thing would be getting word to Sam and arranging the game so Rafe would never find out. She didn't want him to know what she was doing. She didn't want him to know she was even preg nant. She would win enough playing with Sam Foster to pay off her debt entirely, and then she would be free of Rafe and the heartbreak of their sham of a marriage forever.

  Rafe stood at the rail of the steamboat staring sightlessly out at the passing countryside. Things had been tense between him and Brandy ever since the scene in his study, and he was glad now that he'd had to make this trip to New Orleans so he could get away. He needed some time to think.

  Remembering that night, now, and the look on Brandy's face after he'd told her that he had no family and liked it that way, Rafe once again felt the pain that had struck him then. It hadn't been until that moment that he'd realized how closed his life had been and how tightly he'd held his emotions in check all these years.

  Rafe gave himself a mental shake. He didn't understand what was happening to him. He almost wished Marc was there with him so he could talk to him about it, but there was no way he could confide in Marc without telling him the whole truth and that could be ugly. He knew how much Marc liked and respected Brandy, and he could well imagine what his friend would say to him about the "arrangement" he'd forced her into.

  Inwardly grimacing, Rafe started to go into the dining room for dinner, then changed his mind and headed for the men's saloon. A whiskey sounded much better to him than food did right then.

  One whiskey led to another, and it was near midnight when Rafe finally decided he was having his last drink. He'd been sitting alone at a quiet table all evening, thinking and drinking neither of which had done much to settle his dilemma. He'd only grown more befuddled and more miserable as time went on.

  He'd been about to call it a night when he heard several men at the bar talking about Miss Brandy on the Pride. Sitting back, he'd listened to what they had to say, and he smiled ruefully at their talk of how wonderful Brandy was, how beautiful she was, and how utterly unattainable she was. The men at the bar all agreed that the man who won her was going to be one lucky fellow. As drunk as he was, Rafe was tempted to introduce himself to them as her husband, but he stayed where he was, even more confused than ever.

  It was in the early morning hours when he finally made his way to his cabin. He fell upon the solitary bed still fully dressed, and, in a benumbed stupor, he reached for the wife he'd left behind at Bellerive. The reality of his lonely bed sent a shock to the core of his being and jarred him to face the reality of his life and of his feelings.

  He wanted Brandy more than he'd ever wanted any woman. All he had to do was lay a hand upon her, and he couldn't stop himself from loving her.

  Loving her...?

  Rafe frowned into the darkness. Did he love her? A few months before, the thought would have disturbed him greatly, but in this moment as he lay alone in the night, it seemed right. He let his thoughts drift over Brandy and the memories they'd made together. He remembered the first time he'd seen her on the Pride, how lovely she'd been and how very good at poker. He thought of her dangerous encounter with Jackson, and a cold sweat beaded his brow as he realized how close she'd come to being killed that night. Rafe drew a ragged breath. If something had happened to her then, he would never have known the beauty of her love. He thought of the drunken Jones, too, and grew angry at the thought of the other man's hands on her. Brandy was a woman made to be loved, not abused. The memory of her first kiss as she'd rescued him from Lottie Demers brought a chuckle from him, and it was then that he had the answer to the question that had been tormenting him for days.

  In the darkness, Rafe smiled. Brandy was everything those men had said about her and more. He admired her more than he'd ever admired any woman. Where his own mother had been a liar, Brandy was always honest. Where his own mother had not known the word honor, Brandy had lived up to every commitment she'd made. She was kind and gentle, brave and smart. Her spirit was indomitable, and Rafe finally admitted to himself that he did love her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, loving her and making her happy.

  When Rafe fell asleep a short time later, his dreams of Brandy were sweet. He was up at dawn, mentally preparing a battle plan for how he was going to handle his lovely wife. First things first. He would conclude his business as quickly as possible and get back home. He wanted to talk to her face to face, to tell her that he loved her and wanted their marriage to be a real one forever. The thought excited him, and he couldn't wait to return.

  He took a room at the hotel and sent word to his business associate asking if their appointment could be moved up to that afternoon. He had told Brandy that he would be gone a week, for he'd intended to pay other business calls while he was there, but all that mattered to him right now was getting back home to his wife. When he received word that the other man would see him that very day, Rafe was pleased. If all went well, he would be home the next evening. The thought appealed. Two nights without Brandy would be rough; three without her would be devastating.

  With several hours to pass before his meeting, Rafe decided to do some shopping. Apart from the flowers he'd brought her on board the Pride, he'd never truly courted her as she deserved to be courted. With that in mind, he began to shop in earnest, hoping to find something that would be a keepsake, something that would remind both of them of the importance of this trip and how he'd finally awakened to the knowledge that he loved her.

  Rafe knew she was probably still very hurt by his cold cruelty that night in his study. He regretted that night more than he could ever say, but he knew there was no going back. They had been close, and he had been frightened by the intensity of what he'd been feeling. It had been a purely defensive move on his part to shove her away from him as he had. He hadn't had that intimacy with anyone since his mother's betrayal, and learning to trust again was going to be difficult for him. Difficult though it might be, he wanted a future with Brandy, so he would have to learn. He only hoped that she cared enough about him to help him through it.

  As Rafe walked the streets of New Orleans anticipating his homecoming, a single fear still haunted him. He had not bared his soul to anyone since his father's death, and the possibility remained that he might return home to tell Brandy he loved her, only to have her scorn him. The possibility was disturbing, but he found the thought of a life without her far more devastating. He wanted her to be his wife because he loved her and because she loved him, too, and not for any other reason.

  Rafe looked up then as he passed a small shop that carried china and crystal, and in the window he saw a crystal heart. It occurred to him that the heart was the perfect symbol of his love for Brandy. He had protected his own heart for so long, afraid to lose it for fear that it might be broken. When he went to Brandy to tell her that
he loved her, he would give her the fragile heart and ask her to treasure it and guard it with care, for it represented his love for her.

  A few minutes later, he was on his way again with the small wrapped package in hand. He was smiling as he headed for his business meeting. He couldn't wait to get home.

  Brandy was nervous, but she was doing everything in her power to hide it. She had maintained an outward calm all day, and there was only a short time left now.

  She swallowed nervously as she rested a hand on her still-flat stomach. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, then realized she had no other choice. Rafe had taken all choices from her when he'd forced her into this unholy union. Her hands were trembling, and with an effort, she brought her nervousness under control.

  It was working out perfectly. She had nothing to be nervous about. The plan had come to her that night when she'd been praying for a way out of the horrible situation she found herself in. She was pregnant with Rafe's child, and she had to find a way to get the money to pay him back so she wouldn't be forced to leave her baby after it was born. It was out of that desperation that her idea to contact Sam had come, and she had sent him a discreet message the day Rafe had left only to hear back from Sam the very next day. It seemed his wife had gone out of town to visit her ailing aunt, and the following night would be the perfect time for a poker game if she could make it.

  Brandy had told the servants that she'd been invited to dinner with the Fosters, which wasn't altogether a lie, and she was now just about ready to go. She'd gotten together enough money to start her off, and she prayed even harder that she would win a hand or two early to bolster her finances. Her mother had gone to bed early, so there were few questions to answer there. She'd donned one of her gambling dresses from the Pride. The carriage was to be brought around front for her at seven-thirty, so she was due downstairs in just a few minutes.

  Standing before the mirror, Brandy studied her reflection, wanting to make sure she looked her best. Sam had assured her in his note that none of the men who were invited tonight knew Rafe, so her identity would be safe. It was all in good fun anyway as far as Sam was concerned.

  Brandy was the only one taking this evening seriously, and that was because her whole future hinged on her winning big tonight. She had to do this. She had no alternative. How else could she face what the future held for her? How could she possibly tell her mother the terms she'd agreed to before marrying Rafe? And even more devastating, how could she possibly leave her very own baby? Desperation drove her as she dabbed perfume at her pulse points and took one final look at her reflection before turning to leave the bedroom.

  Rafe couldn't remember the last time he'd been this excited about returning home. Soon he would be with Brandy. That was all that mattered.

  The trip upriver had seemed to take forever, but at last they had landed at Natchez and now he was on the last leg of the journey home. Home.. .The word felt right now. Before he'd always been going to Bellerive, and he might have occasionally called it home, but tonight it truly felt like a homecoming.

  There was no denying that he was nervous. It wasn't going to be easy for him to bare his soul to her, but he was going to do whatever he had to, to let her know that he loved her and wanted a future with her.

  The carriage seemed to be going at a snail's pace. He was tempted to tell the driver to step down, that he'd take over the team himself, but he controlled himself. It was only a matter of a few minutes now and he would be with her again. He smiled.

  Rafe glanced down at the gift-wrapped present he held. He'd refused to put it in his bags for fear that it might be broken. It was too important for that. It symbolized his life and how he felt about Brandy. It had to be perfect when he gave it to her. He slipped it into the pocket of his jacket for safekeeping as they turned up the drive that led to the house.

  It was just beginning to get dark, so he was eagerly looking forward to the long, quiet evening ahead of them. He could hardly wait to see Brandy and give her his gift.

  As soon as the carriage stopped, Rafe was out the door. He hurried inside, surprising George, who hadn't been expecting him, but who had come to the front of the house to see who'd pulled up in the drive.

  "Why, Master Rafe ...It's you," the old servant greeted him. "You're back early, sir."

  "I know," he said, smiling happily at the man who'd been through so much with him. "I was missing my wife. Is she upstairs?"

  "Yes, sir," George told him. He thought it was good that Rafe was back, so he could accompany Miss Brandy to the Fosters'.

  Rafe thought about climbing the stairs at his normal pace, but he was so close to her now, he took them two at a time. He had to see her. He wanted to kiss her. He needed to see the look in her eyes when he gave her his heart.

  The bedroom door was closed, and he didn't even bother to knock. Without a thought, he threw it wide and walked in.

  "Rafe!" Brandy said his name in shock as she dropped the vial of perfume she'd been using.

  "Brandy, I "he began, and then stopped cold at the look of guilt on her face. His heart constricted painfully as he stared at her. She was wearing one of her gambling dresses and was standing before the mirror obviously getting ready to go out somewhere-but where?

  Memories of another time slashed at Rafe, and he remembered the scene with his mother. In crystal clarity, it all came back to him the horror of finding her naked in bed with the other man, the misery of listening to her fight with his father, the pain of discovering that she'd never wanted him or loved him and never would.

  "What are you doing?" he asked, trying to come to grips with what was happening. He advanced into the room slowly.

  "Nothing... just trying on an old dress, that's all," she lied, and her nervousness showed. "You're back early."

  "Obviously," he drawled as he spied her drawstring purse lying on the bed. In two strides he was there, grabbing it up and finding all the money she'd put away just for tonight. "Going out, were you?"

  He lifted his gaze to hers, saw the turmoil there and was filled with a terrible fury. He had thought she was different from other women. He had thought that he loved her. What a fool he'd been!

  Rage at her for proving to be just like his mother, and loathing at himself for being so easily fooled, filled him.

  "Answer me!" he snarled as he cast her purse aside in a furious gesture that sent the money flying about the room.

  Brandy saw the anger in his eyes and knew there was no point in trying to lie her way out of the situation. She had never dreamed he would come home ahead of schedule, but he had, and now she was caught. There was no alternative but to face him with the truth. She gave a defiant lift of her chin.

  "Yes, I was going out!" she snapped, her fury matching his but for completely different reasons. She had wanted to save her baby, and now she had no hope. "I was to be the hostess at a poker game at Sam Foster's home tonight."

  "Sam Foster?"

  "He's an old friend. He gambled with me often on the steamer, and he told me at the reception that if I ever wanted to play poker again, to let him know. So Miss Brandy of the Pride was going to make a command appearance tonight. The stakes were going to be high, and I was praying with all my might that I would win and win big so I could get out of this sham of a marriage!"

  At her words, his outrage grew. He had fallen in love with her, but she wanted nothing more than to get away from him!

  "Well, madam," he said in a low, lethal voice, "if you're so intent on getting out of this marriage, why don't we just work on making that possible?"

  He tossed off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt as he stalked toward her, the predator toward his prey.

  "No...Rafe..." She backed up.

  "Oh, yes. You said it yourself. You want out, and we know the terms of the agreement, don't we? I know exactly how to get you out of this `sham of a marriage'...."

  He snared her wrist in an unyielding iron grip and pulled her along with him toward the bed.
Tonight, he would not be denied.

  Brandy felt sick inside. She'd seen Rafe angry before, on the steamboat, but it had been nothing like this. This was a cold fury that frightened her far more.

  "Rafe..."

  "There's really no need for talk," he told her as he pushed her down on the bed. "We have nothing left to say to each other anyway."

  Rafe joined her on the bed, reaching for her, caressing her through the silk of her gown. He'd meant to demean her, to make her realize what her betrayal had done to him, but as he held her body against his, his anger fled. Passion, hot and driving, exploded within him. Brandy was his....

  Brandy had been trembling when Rafe came to her. She'd feared his anger and had not known what to expect from him, but at the touch of his lips on hers, hard and demanding at first, but then becoming soft and coaxing, her trembling was for another reason. Even though she knew he didn't love her, she could never deny her need for him.

  His clothes were discarded and her gown was shed. The silken material ripped in their haste to be close, but neither noticed. Their need was too great, their desire too wild, to care about such things. They needed to be together. Nothing could keep them apart.

  Rafe's hands upon Brandy aroused her to a fever pitch, and she returned his caresses, wanting to excite him in the same way. His body was hard against her, and she accepted him as he came to her. Theirs was a turbulent, desperate mating. Driven by passions they couldn't control, they moved together in a frenzy of physical need, seeking, then finding that ultimate release.

  After their lovemaking, they always lay together, savoring the closeness of being one, the joy of holding each other. But not tonight.

  As Rafe's passion cooled, his sanity returned, and he went cold inside. The fury that had driven him earlier had been erased now, and in its wake, he felt nothing for her nothing at all.

  Rafe withdrew from Brandy without a word and began to gather up his clothes. He dressed, then picked up his jacket and left the room. This was one night he would spend in his study.