by Bobbi Smith
Brandy had wanted to cling to him as he left the bed, but she had not dared. She had suddenly felt naked and exposed before him, and she'd drawn the sheet up over herself. When he closed the door silently behind him, it terrified her more than if he'd slammed it in a fit of rage. Outbursts of anger she could handle. Cold indifference would be terrible to deal with.
Alone, Brandy could no longer hold back the tears. Great sobs wracked her as she realized that there could be no going back. What had existed of their fragile relationship had been destroyed, and her one hope to earn enough money to buy her way out of the marriage was gone. Her future with Rafe stretched before her, bleak and unforgiving. She wondered how she would ever survive.
Rafe came downstairs to find the carriage waiting at the front door.
"George!"
The servant appeared almost immediately. He'd expected Rafe to be in a good mood, having come home so early, and he was surprised to find that he was surly. "Yes, sir?"
"Send a note to Sam Foster telling him that Brandy won't be coming over tonight, and dismiss the carriage. Nobody's going anywhere this evening."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll be in my study and I do not want to be disturbed by anyone. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
Rafe went in and locked the door. As he moved to light the lamp on his desk, he tossed his coat across a chair. It was then that the small package fell out of his pocket, and Rafe was reminded of how happy and excited he'd been about coming home just a short time before.
He stared at the box, then went to pick it up after lighting the lamp. His expression was filled with loathing as he looked down at it in his hand. Striding to the small bar, he poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and downed it in one fiery swallow. He poured another ample draught into the glass, then walked to his desk to sit down. In disgust, he threw the box he'd so carefully brought back from New Orleans on the desktop.
It was several hours and many whiskeys later when he finally opened the box. As he looked at the crystal heart, he cursed his own stupidity in believing Brandy was different from other women. How could he have forgotten all the lessons he'd learned through the years? He would never forget again... never.
Rafe took the crystal heart out of the box. It felt cold to his touch, and he thought that most appropriate right now. For an instant, the memory of how excited he'd been when he'd first seen it in the shop window returned, and in a flash of uncontrollable anger he threw the heart with all his power against the wall. The heart shattered into a thousand tiny fragments on impact, and crashed to the floor.
Rafe had thought that he would feel some satisfaction at having destroyed it, but he only felt empty and alone. He drank another whiskey and waited for morning.
As dawn brightened the eastern horizon, he emerged from the study. He called George to him.
"I want you to open the locked bedroom today and see that Miss Brandy's things are moved in there."
"You want her in the locked room?" George repeated, shocked by Rafe's order. No one had been in there in years.
"That's what I said. I'll be gone for most of the day. See that it's done before I return tonight."
"Yes, sir."
Brandy passed a quiet day with her mother. Brandy told her how Rafe had come home early and was already back at work out on the plantation somewhere. Libby expressed her wish that he'd come back to the house so she could see him. Brandy said nothing.
It was mid-afternoon when a great weariness overcame Brandy, and she excused herself to go upstairs for a nap. As she went down the hall, she saw that the door to the locked bedroom was open. Curious, she went to see what was going on. Tilda, one of the maids, was busy putting clean linens on the bed.
"Tilda? Why is this room open? Rafe told me it's always locked."
"I know, ma'am, but this morning, Mr. Rafe said that we were to move your things out of his bedroom and put them in here."
Brandy felt all the color drain out of her face as she stared at the servant. She recovered only after an awkward moment of stunned silence. "Yes, yes, of course. That's fine. I was going to lie down for a while, so I guess I should do that in here now."
"Yes, ma'am. I've already put all your things in the closet and dresser."
"Thank you."
Tilda quickly left, and Brandy walked slowly into the room where Rafe and his father had found his mother in bed with another man. She could almost picture the horror of that night so long ago, and she realized why she'd been banished to this room Rafe believed her to be no better than his mother.
Pain stabbed at her heart; yet, even as she was hurt by his rejection of her, in the long run, she knew it was for the best. If they were separated this way, it would be possible for her to hide her condition from him for a little longer, and the one thing she needed was time.... Time to find a way out of her dilemma.. .time to save her baby and herself....
Brandy sat down on the edge of the bed cautiously, testing its softness, and then lay down. Though she was nearly exhausted from her emotional turmoil and from the new and precious life she carried within her, sleep would not come.
It was late, long after midnight. Brandy lay in her solitary bed unable to sleep. She was tired, but that wasn't unusual, for it seemed she was tired all the time now. Still, she needed to sleep, and sleep wouldn't come.
Since that fateful day when Rafe had returned from New Orleans early, he had not made love to her or shown her any outward affection. She had thought living with him before had been difficult, but this was becoming unbearable. Night after night, she'd waited, anticipating his coming to her bed, but he had made no effort to seek her out. Several nights, she'd heard the sound of a horse and had gotten up in time to watch him ride away into the darkness. She'd never known what time he'd returned, for she'd always fallen into an exhausted slumber before then. Her heart ached and misery haunted her soul, for she was certain on those lonely nights that he was seeking out the warmth of Mirabelle's bed. It crushed Brandy to think of him in the beautiful widow's arms, but there was nothing she could do. It was clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
Her mother had noticed the coolness between them. When she'd remarked on Rafe's aloofness and the fact that Brandy now had her own bedroom, Brandy had made up a plausible story that he had been used to living alone so long that he needed more privacy. Her mother had seemed to believe her, but sometimes Brandy wondered.
The days passed in an endless stream. She'd forced herself to keep busy so she wouldn't have too much time to think. She'd received an occasional note from Claire letting her know how things were going with Marc and the children, but other than that there was a tedious monotony to her life. Keeping her pregnancy a secret from everyone had become her foremost goal. She had to hide her condition until she could find a way to escape from the hell her marriage had become.
Sighing, Brandy rolled over and sought comfort, but there was no peace to be found, only desolation and fear for her baby's future.
Rafe sat in his study, downing another shot of whiskey. He held the empty glass up and studied it thoughtfully in the lamplight. There had been a time in his life when a few whiskeys had helped him to see things a bit more clearly, but not anymore. He'd been relying on the liquor's blessed numbness for many days now, and nothing was any clearer to him. If anything, his life seemed even more complicated.
He still loved her....
He'd tried to deny it. He'd tried to ignore the feelings that swept through him every time he saw her, but he could only hide from the truth for so long. He did love her, and all the whiskey in the world couldn't wash away the truth of it.
Rafe considered having another drink, but decided against it. Past nights had proven that more whiskeys didn't help. He might sleep for a few hours, but when he awoke, the torment was still there.
Shoving the glass aside on his desk, he stood up. He swayed, a bit unsteady, then got his bearings. He felt like a sea captain on a rolling deck, and he grinned stupi
dly at the image that conjured up in his liquor-soddened mind. Captain of my ship... Master of my fate...
He gave a snort of derision. He couldn't even master his own runaway emotions how could he possibly be the master of his own fate?
Brandy...
She slipped sweetly into his thoughts again, and he felt the heat settle in his body. Even after all that had happened, he still desired her, still wanted her. He had never known bliss as wonderful as making love to her. He had considered seeking out Mirabelle, had gone so far as to ride halfway to her house several nights, but in the end, he'd just spent long hours on horseback, riding to the wind, trying to find solace for his soul.
Brandy...
Visions of her played in his mind and would not be dismissed. He remembered how nervous she'd been on their wedding night and how he'd cheated at the strip-poker game. He thought of her innocence and how responsive she'd been. Memories of how sweet her kisses were, of how silken her skin was to his touch, of how perfect it had felt to be one with her sent desire pounding through him. He had hoped the liquor would dull his need, but it hadn't. He wondered if this was how his father had felt about his mother. He might despise her, but, God help him, he still wanted her.
Driven by demons that he could not banish, Rafe left his study and started up the stairs. He did not pause before her door, but threw it open and stood silhouetted in the doorway, staring at her where she lay in his mother's bed.
"Rafe...?" Brandy had just been about to drift off when the door opened, and, startled, she sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her breasts.
Rafe stood unmoving in the doorway. On the way up the steps, he had been determined that nothing was going to stop him from making love to her. But as he stared at her now, the memory of his mother hit him with such force that all his passion and need drained instantly from him. He remained where he was, watching her, his expression inscrutable. Then, in complete disgust, he turned abruptly and walked away.
For just a moment when the door had first opened, Brandy didn't know what to think. She'd known a flicker of hope that he was coming to her because he couldn't live without her anymore, because he wanted her and loved her, but as quickly as the thought had come, she'd pushed it away. This was her real life, not a childish fantasy. And then he was gone without a word, leaving her feeling even more terrible than she had before.
Rising, Brandy closed the door, and then leaned heavily against it as silent sobs wracked her. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. Surely, working as a maid somewhere would be far better than living like this. All her life she had thought the worst thing was not knowing where your next meal was coming from, but now she had learned a bitter lesson and knew better. She would rather be hungry and know she was loved than to have all the riches money could provide and be alone and hated.
Brandy stumbled back to her bed and curled up there, resting one hand protectively on the curve of her stomach. She did not sleep at all that night.
Rafe returned to the house early one afternoon the following week. He was leaving on another business trip to St. Louis the next day and had some paperwork to complete before he could go. Libby was in the parlor, and she came to meet him as he entered the house.
"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," she told him with a welcoming smile. She thought the world of him and was worried about the coolness she'd noticed between him and Brandy.
Rafe couldn't help but smile back at Libby. She was, indeed, the only bright spot in his days anymore. "I've got to go to St. Louis tomorrow for another meeting, so there were things I had to finish up here first."
"Oh, you're leaving us again...." Libby was truly disappointed and it sounded in her voice.
"Don't worry. I'll be back."
"Lunch is almost ready. Do you want to eat with me? I've been rather lonely at lunch lately."
"I'd love to eat with you, but why have you been lonely? Where's Brandy?" he asked.
"She hasn't been feeling well these last few days, although she probably didn't tell you because she didn't want to bother you."
"Not feeling well?" He frowned at the thought that she might be ill. "What's wrong?"
"She never says exactly, but I do know she's been a bit pale lately and resting a lot in the afternoons."
Tilda came to tell Libby that the meal was ready, and Rafe let her know that he would be eating, too. He and Libby passed a relaxed meal together, talking of everything except Brandy. When they were through, Rafe stood to excuse himself.
"I think I'll go check on my wife, and then be about my work."
"I hope you get it all done."
Leaving Libby in the dining room, Rafe went up to Brandy's bedroom and stopped outside the door. He hesitated there, wondering exactly what he should do. If she was asleep and he knocked, he'd wake her, and Libby had said that she wasn't feeling well. The thought of her suffering in any way troubled him, and he wanted to make sure she was all right before he left for St. Louis. Cautiously and quietly, he opened the door to let himself in.
The sight of Brandy sleeping, curled on her side on the bed, did not affect him today as it had the other night when he'd been drinking so heavily. He moved into the room silently and came to stand at the bedside. His gaze was warm as it swept over Brandy. She was wearing just her chemise; the light cover she'd been using was a tangle about her hips. Rafe saw right away that Libby had been right. Brandy's color was pale. She looked fragile almost. He let his gaze drift lower, and it was then that he saw the undeniable swell of her stomach.
Rafe felt a burst of joy as he stared at the proof of her condition. Brandy wasn't sick. Brandy was having his baby! He wondered how he could have been so unseeing not to have known that she was with child.
As the moment of Rafe's excitement passed, though, reality bared itself to him. She had wanted a way out of their marriage, and now she had it. This was the beginning of the end.
Brandy came awake slowly, her eyes fluttering open to find Rafe standing over her with the strangest expression on his face. Realizing her state of undress, she quickly grabbed for the cover and shielded herself from his view. "Rafe? What is it?"
"When were you planning to tell me?" he demanded.
"Tell you what?" she countered defensively, hoping against hope that he hadn't seen, but somehow knowing just from his look that he had.
"That you were pregnant," Rafe said flatly.
She saw the cold look in his eyes, and the pain of all that had happened between them welled up inside her. "Never, if I'd had my way!"
Her words were almost a physical blow to him, and he fought back, sneering, "Ali, but you should be happy about the baby, Brandy. You said yourself that all you wanted was to get out of our marriage, and we both know the terms."
"Yes, we do know the terms, don't we? When this is all over, you'll have just what you wanted, and that's all that really matters to you, isn't it? That Rafe Marchand gets exactly what he wants, when he wants it."
He smiled thinly at her. "Rest well, madam."
He left the room.
The door closed behind him with a finality that crushed Brandy. She stared after him, wanting to cry, but no tears would come. Instead, a cold, hard logic filled her, and she knew what she had to do. She had to get away with her baby while she still could.
Brandy agonized through the night, trying to decide what to tell her mother, and finally she decided that the only way to handle it was with the truth. She waited until Rafe had departed the following day, then took her mother upstairs to her bedroom where she knew they could talk in private.
"What's the matter, honey?" Libby asked Brandy when they were alone. "Rafe was worried about you yesterday after I told him how you hadn't been feeling well. Are you feeling worse today?"
Brandy almost gave a heartless laugh at her mother's observation that Rafe had been worried about her. She was certain he hadn't come up to her room because he was concerned puzzled maybe, but worried about her? Never. "Actually, I'm feeling
better today, Mama."
"Then why all this secrecy? What do you want to talk about that couldn't be said downstairs?"
Brandy took her hand and led her to one of the chairs in the room. "Sit down, Mama. There's something important I have to tell you."
"You think I need to be sitting down to hear this?" Libby looked at her questioningly.
"Yes."
Libby did as she was told, frowning and worried now. Something was very wrong with her daughter, and she didn't know what. "All right. I'm sitting down. Now, tell me. What in the world is going on?"
Brandy stood there before her mother for a mo merit, trying to get her thoughts in order. She'd known it was going to be difficult, but she hadn't imagined just how difficult until now.
"Mama..." She glanced at her mother and saw her expectant look, then forged ahead. "Mama... I'm pregnant."
Libby's expression went from puzzled to joyous in the blink of an eye.
"Oh, Brandy!" she exclaimed, jumping up to hug her. "This is wonderful! Does Rafe know? Have you told him yet?" She couldn't imagine that he knew, for he had been very quiet last night and again this morning. His conversations with her when they'd been together before he'd left had been polite, but he'd said nothing to suggest that he knew he would soon be a father and she would soon be a grandmother.
"Oh, yes. Rafe knows."
Libby heard the change in her voice. "But he didn't seem excited. In fact, for the last few weeks, he's been acting more than a little withdrawn. I mean, he's always cordial, but things definitely have changed between the two of you. What is it, Brandy? Doesn't Rafe want a baby right now?"
"This is why I wanted you to sit down. I have a lot to tell you, and, honestly, if I could have avoided this moment forever, I would have considered myself blessed. But I can't keep the truth from you any longer."
"What are you talking about?" Libby was completely baffled.
"It's about me and Rafe..."