Slowly, she worked the buttons. “You always enjoy games, Brazos.” She laughed, low and seductively. “Now, I know of one even more fun than golf. And we have all the equipment we need to play right here and right now.”
Damn, the woman was persistent. And smart. She’d caught him at a low point, then capitalized on it with an ugly story that garnered his sympathy. But his situation hadn’t changed just because he understood Madeline’s reasons for lying to him. He still needed out of this marriage.
Madeline and Rose deserved roots that stretched deep into the soil and grabbed hold for life. Brazos’s roots had dried up and disintegrated in the bowels of Perote Prison. Tumbleweeds simply had no roots to plant.
No matter how much they wished they did.
He scowled and shut his eyes when she bared her breasts before him. “Put your clothes back on, woman.”
She ignored him. “And the rules of this game are simple. All we need is to see, and taste, and touch—a lot of touching. Don’t you remember, Brazos? We’ve played this game before.” His groan was a deep rumble that served only to encourage her.
“You told me before how soft my skin was, how sweet I tasted,” she said. “We did enjoy this game before.”
Brazos took a deep breath and consciously relaxed his clenched fists. He looked at her, and his gaze slipped below her neck only twice as he said, “Listen, Madeline, I appreciate the effort. A woman like you bent on seduction is mighty hard to resist. And I’m proud that you shared your story with me. I know it wasn’t an easy thing to do. But it hasn’t changed anything between us. I’m leaving you at La Réunion, and I’m getting that divorce.”
Reaching for her, Brazos intended to fasten her buttons. But somehow his fingers got all tangled up with her breasts, and then she was leaning toward him and moaning deep in her throat, and his tongue sort of darted out to taste that hollow where the noise was coming from.
Still, he’d have been all right had she not gone for the buttons on his britches. She touched him then, molded her fingers around him, and all his good intentions disappeared faster than a plate of cookies in St. Michael’s kitchen.
“Hell, Maddie,” he groaned, lowering her to her back and kneeling above her. “You’ve no more conscience than a cow in a stampede. Didn’t they teach you the meaning of the word no in that boarding school of yours?”
She laughed, a seductive, triumphant song that delved into his heart and invaded that empty, guarded place, filling it with heat. “Actually, my years in England taught me that if the answer is no, I haven’t properly asked the question.” Her arms curled around his waist, and she pulled him toward her. Rubbing her naked bosom against his bare chest, she asked, “Am I asking properly now?”
“Hussy.” His tongue slid between her lips as he took her mouth in a possessive kiss. He tasted the apple’s sweetness on her breath and knew he’d been right in the comparison to Eve. A rocky hill in Central Texas wasn’t exactly the Garden of Eden, but then, this entire scenario was backward. He was Sin, the devil—not poor old Adam, who lost it all because he succumbed to a temptress’s charms.
He didn’t help her when she shimmied out of her petticoats and drawers, but he didn’t hinder her either. Stroking the unbound silk of her long, glistening tresses and gazing down at her mouth, gleaming red and swollen from his kiss, Brazos admitted that he’d never stopped wanting her. Even when he’d tried to convince himself she was nothing short of evil, he’d desired her with an intensity he’d known for no other woman. There was something about Madeline that called to him, a light that battled his inner darkness.
The Beauty clashed with the Beast.
“Aw, to hell with fig leaves,” he said, stripping off his denims and positioning himself between her thighs. “Take me to paradise, Beauty.” He entered her slowly, reining in the urge to bury himself inside her with one fast thrust. For all her success as a seductress, he knew in his heart she’d practiced her wiles upon him alone.
Brazos braced himself on his elbows and fought his natural hunger. “Relax, darlin’. Last time we took turns. This time I want us to go off together. It’ll be so fine, Maddie mine.” He lowered his head and nuzzled her breast. “First, I'll suck you like a baby and taste that sweetness you promised me.” He caught her pebbled nipple between his teeth and gently tugged.
A whimper escaped her throat, and he lowered himself a little more. “I’ll work you with my hands till the musk of your arousal surrounds us in a cloud of perfume. And then I’m gonna listen as you scream your release, and our voices will blend as I spill my seed inside you. We’ll have a grand time, Maddie mine.” He pressed down on her, his breath catching in his throat as she moved beneath him, tilting her hips and taking him completely.
And Brazos proceeded to make good on his promises.
It was more than sex and technique, it was an exquisite blending of need and desire, of gifts freely offered and joyfully received. Brazos made love with Madeline.
Feeling her climax, bathing himself in the hot, dancing flames that made her writhe and quake and cry out his name, he exploded inside her and lost himself in the paradise of her body pulsing around him. Her contractions pulled him deep into a place he’d never known before—a warm, golden Eden, where the hollow in his soul was filled to overflowing with a brilliant, gentle peace.
He sagged against her, desperate to hold on to this new and wondrous sensation. He pressed butterfly kisses against her throat, her cheek, her eyes. “Oh, Brazos,” Madeline sighed, “I could love you so easily.”
For just a moment, the colors of paradise sparkled brilliantly and beckoned. But the darkness inside him flared in rage as she made her declaration. He rolled off of her and lay on his back with his forearm flung over his eyes. “Please don’t, Maddie. I don’t want to hurt you. And I will. God help me, but I will.”
“I don’t believe you, Brazos.” She rested her head on his chest, her fingers drawing lazily across his belly. He didn’t have either the heart or the strength to push her away. The hurt was inevitable and would undoubtedly come sooner rather than later. But for now, this stolen moment in time, he was content to lay here with this woman he—
Brazos refused to complete the thought. But the word hung in his mind, churning his gut, and piercing his heart. Madeline may have dealt with her demons by telling him her story, but his certainly hadn’t gone anywhere. Seeing as what had happened in the bottom of that well, Brazos’s personal demon had grown even stronger. He realized that until he dealt with the monster inside him, he’d never be at peace.
To deal with the demon inside meant dealing with the devil outside. Brazos could make no commitments until he’d dealt with Damasso Salezan.
THEY GOT a late start away from St. Michael’s Children’s Home the following morning, what with over twenty teary-eyed children to soothe. At first, Madeline questioned the advisability of passing out gifts to children from an open coffin, but judging from the anticipation and delight present in their faces, she’d worried over nothing. Apparently, they had experience in dealing with Brazos Sinclair’s peculiarities.
Madeline watched with detached interest as Brazos and Mason finished unloading the silver from the casket and stored it in an underground chamber disguised as a privy. “I trust all of those in residence understand not to avail themselves of this particular facility?” she asked Sister Cecilia.
The nun smiled. “Mason has threatened each of us with dire consequences should we forget.”
Brazos then fussed for almost twenty minutes, rearranging Madeline’s trunks in the buckboard to create a safe carrying place for his golf clubs. “You sure you couldn’t repack your things in the coffin, Maddie? With the silver gone, I could use a little more weight in the box. Besides, your clothes would help cushion my golf clubs. I don’t want them getting busted.”
“Brazos.” Madeline said with a sigh, “I’m sure your toys will be just fine where they are.”
Following a final round of good-byes, Brazos and Madel
ine and Rose headed out. “I can’t believe I’m actually bringing Miss Magic back with us,” he grumbled as the wagon turned on the road leading toward Rocky Point.
“I can’t believe you actually thought to take her away from me,” Madeline replied, still bristling at the idea.
On the way back to St. Michael’s yesterday, Brazos had confessed a secret of his own. He’d told Madeline how he had planned to leave Rose at St. Michael’s. After a few tense moments, Madeline admitted she understood his motives. “You were trying to protect her” she’d said. “While I can be angry that you believed so little of me, I can’t fault you for watching out for my daughter.”
The morning air was cool, and as the wagon creaked its way along the trail, Madeline dug an extra sweater from Rose’s bag and worked the squirming youngster’s arms into the sleeves. “I don’t know, Maddie,” Brazos said, a pensive look on his face. “Maybe I’m making a mistake taking you back to the wagon train. What if Salezan’s men find you? It could be dangerous.”
Madeline shook her head. “I thought we settled this argument yesterday. Let me see if I have this right.” She held up her hand and ticked off each point with a finger “First, you hid Juanita with the colonists because you thought it was the safest place for her. That hasn’t changed. Second, there’s been no sign of this Salezan or his men. Third, even if the worst happened and this monster you speak of traced Juanita to La Réunion, he certainly wouldn’t go after me and Rose. Fourth, even if he did, La Réunion is a closed community. We don’t allow strangers among us. The colonists will protect us.”
“All right, Maddie,” Brazos said. “You don’t have to wear out my ears again. You’ve convinced me; otherwise, I’d have left St. Michael’s without you.”
Madeline sent him a sidelong look. “Brazos, you should know by now that no one keeps me anywhere I don’t want to be. Had you left me at the children’s home, I wouldn’t have stayed.”
He scowled, but he didn’t argue with the truth. A cardinal sang whoit whoit to its mate as the buckboard rattled down the road. As they passed a farm, the scent of freshly turned dirt carried on the air. Madeline and Brazos passed the time in idle conversation or comfortable silence. Madeline used those quiet times to ponder the status of her marriage.
Brazos never mentioned the possibility of a future between them beyond the next few weeks. He had told her little of this Salezan, other than the man was a threat to Juanita and to anyone Brazos loved.
That pricked at her a bit. The Mexican beauty was one part of the equation she’d yet to solve. True, Brazos had been open in declaring his love for Juanita. But for all the cooing and touching between the two of them, she’d yet to see signs of a connection beyond that of dear friends. Of course, it could be she saw only what she wanted to see, but she didn’t really believe that. Brazos didn’t look at Juanita with the same light in his eyes that glowed when he looked at her.
Maybe her plan was working, after all.
Could it be that she was succeeding? Had she made inroads toward this theft she intended? Had she stolen even a piece of his heart?
Perhaps. Only time would tell. Time and Brazos’s actions upon their reunion with the colonists. Somehow, she needed to convince him that they had the makings of a perfect family. She could do it, surely she could. She simply had to devise the proper plan.
Madeline was not about to abandon her quest. Difficulties regularly arose in one’s designs, and things required a bit of rearranging. That’s all she faced now. Confidently, she put her mind to work. She was after his heart; she wouldn’t be settling for potato mashers.
They reached the wagon train’s trail late that afternoon. Madeline was driving the wagon while Brazos rode her mare when he spotted his brother’s horse riding back toward them. Brazos drew a line of brown dust clouds as he raced his horse across the prairie toward Tyler. Her curiosity aroused by the length of the discussion, Madeline absently sang a song for Rose as the wagon finally drew up beside them.
For the first time since Galveston, Tyler looked at her with a smile on his face. “Hello, Madeline,” he said.
“Tyler.”
Then he turned to Brazos and said, “The wagons are only a day’s ride from Dallas. Now that you’re back, why don’t I ride on ahead and take care of that business we discussed.”
“Business?” Brazos asked, his brow wrinkling.
“Yes, Brazos. That detail awaiting your arrival. Remember? Don’t you want it taken care of before the colonists arrive?”
A slow light dawned across Brazos’s face. Then he scowled. “Damn, I forgot all about him. Yeah, go on, Tyler, and see if you can’t escort the—” Brazos stopped suddenly. He twisted in the saddle to look at Madeline. Then he folded his arms, tilted his chin, and stared at her.
She looked up at him blankly.
Slowly, softly at first, Brazos began to laugh. Pretty soon, he was laughing so hard, he was leaning in his saddle. “Brazos, have you lost all your sense?” Madeline asked, grimacing in aggravation.
“He never existed, did he, Maddie mine?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Not what. Who. It’s no wonder you never remembered the fella’s name. You’d made it all up.”
Madeline was growing vexed. Brazos twirled his hat on a finger and chortled. “Mr. Sinclair,” she said in a tight voice, “who are you talking about?”
“See. She still can’t remember Emile. The phantom fiancé waiting at La Réunion. There’s never been an Emile in your life, has there, Maddie?”
Madeline hated to be laughed at. “As a matter of fact, I’m quite close to a male named Emile.” She lifted her chin and added, “He broke down and cried when I left him in France.”
Brazos sobered abruptly. “Well, who the hell is he?”
“He lives at Château St. Germaine, and I’m telling you, Brazos, we were very close.” She whipped the reins and started the wagon forward. Grinning at his sour look, she added, “He’s the cook’s pet collie.”
Chapter 16
BRAZOS TOOK ONE LOOK at the land along the rocky, white limestone bluffs Victor Considérant had purchased for the La Réunion colony and said, “My God, does nothing at all happen north of that man’s neck? He picked out the worst-looking section of land this side of the Louisiana border.” He shook his head in amazement and added, “Must’ve been either a banker or a lawyer who sold him these acres.”
“Brazos! Your brother is a lawyer;” Madeline replied, gazing around at the site.
“So?”
“I’m going to tell him you said that.”
He laughed. “Tyler knows what I think of his profession.”
Madeline almost mentioned that Brazos didn’t hesitate to use Tyler’s professional skills, but she thought it best not to bring up the subject of divorce. “I think this land is quite pretty,” she said. “It reminds me of the vineyard country of France.”
“Maddie, y’all won't be needing wine to see you through the winter,” Brazos said with disgust. “You’ll need corn—lots of it—and vegetables. Hell, a still and a couple of bushels of grain will take care of a man’s drinking needs. You folks will need to concentrate on food.”
Madeline shrugged, unwilling to think so far ahead. This was springtime in Texas—the sun bright and warm, the air velvety soft and sweetened from the bounty of wildflowers growing in splashes of red, yellow, and blue throughout the surrounding countryside. And Brazos wasn’t leaving until he’d built her a house. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. I think I shall love my new home.”
As a result of the efforts of a small assembly of Fourierists who had previously made the journey from Europe, building of the La Réunion colony was well under way. The president’s office, a structure for the making of soap and candles, a laundry, a forge, and a chicken house had been completed. The newest arrivals also found a cottage for the executive agent and two dormitories of eight apartments, each to be allotted to two households, ready for occupancy.
Brazos scoffed at that notion. “Ain’t a tepee yet been built that can peaceably house two families,” he observed. Immediately, he sought out the agent and offered a substantial amount of money for two weeks’ rent on the fellow’s cozy cottage. Privacy was a priority for both him and Madeline.
Juanita had accepted the change in Brazos and Madeline’s relationship with surprising grace. She’d chosen to sleep in the dormitory until the house was finished, a move that helped her to make friends among the colonists. As she had explained the day they’d taken the empty coffin out for burial during a private family ceremony, more than anything, she wanted her Sin to be happy.
After weeks with the colonists, it was obvious Brazos had been correct in assuming that Juanita would fit right in with the Europeans. While he’d given up on the idea of keeping her extraordinary beauty veiled on a daily basis, she had promised never to leave the colony compound—and to wear the veil when she broke the first promise and left La Réunion anyway.
With the trip from Houston successfully completed, Tyler prepared to return to Galveston. Madeline listened attentively as he and Brazos discussed the letter they’d posted in Anderson some two weeks ago—an invitation to Damasso Salezan to attend the reopening of a silver mine. She smiled with relief when Brazos instructed Tyler to see to the cancellation of the investigation into Rose’s background. The other topic of interest to Madeline was the subject of divorce. Neither man mentioned it.
The morning Tyler left La Réunion, as she listened to the two men tease one another like ornery little boys, Madeline felt a pang in her heart that was slow to disappear. They were family. They loved and laughed and bickered and fought. They had tears in their eyes as they took leave of each other.
She wanted to share that. She needed desperately to be part of a family like the Sinclairs. It had been her lifelong dream. Madeline prayed she was a good enough thief to steal it for herself.
Brazos watched Tyler’s dust until the red cloud settled back to the ground. When he turned to her, his voice was gruff, “Well, I reckon we’d best get to work on that house I promised you. Where are you supposed to work today?”
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