Ecstasy's Promise (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  He put his hand to his forehead. If only he could forget. He tried to return to his bookwork, but found that he had lost the ability to concentrate. He started to rise and go to bed when his eyes fell on the letter from Georgia. He reached for it wearily. May as well take care of the taxes on Farraday Plantation, he thought.

  He opened the letter and read:

  Mr. Hanover,

  In regards to the taxes on Farraday Plantation, the amount has been increased due to the dwelling built on said property.

  He read it through twice before he got the full meaning. By the amount of the increase in payment, he knew it was not a small building or a cabin that had been built; no, it was a house, and if it was a house, then Victoria was at Farraday Plantation.

  Edward cursed his own stupidity. He had believed Paul O'Brian when he had assured Price that he had not seen Victoria. Of course, Paul had lied for her.

  He had helped Victoria in her deception.

  Edward laughed, but his laughter held no amusement. "You forgot it was me to whom they sent the tax statement for Farraday Plantation, didn't you, Victoria?"

  His face was stormy; his lips curled in a cruel smile. He paced up and down the floor. He was talking to himself, but his words were for Victoria.

  "At last it is my turn. You put me through hell, Victoria. I have waited for this day for a long time. I can't wait to get my hands on you." His rage knew no bounds. Revenge would soon be his.

  He went over to his desk and jotted a note for Mammaw.

  I found her. She is in Georgia, I leave tonight.

  Edward

  He pulled the red cord that summoned Juanita. "See that this letter gets to Mrs. Anderson; then pack my things."

  "Tonight?"

  "Yes, at once."

  It did not matter to Edward that he had awakened Juanita from a sound sleep, and it was the middle of the night. He only knew he must reach Savannah, and revenge was not far away.

  He rode out as soon as Juanita had packed his bags and a sleepy Estancio had saddled his horse. He rode for three days until he reached Galveston, changing horses often.

  As luck would have it, a ship was leaving for the Florida Keys. From there he would have no problem getting to Savannah, and then he would face Victoria and have his revenge. That thought stayed with him the whole time it took him to reach Florida. From there he chartered a private boat to take him to Savannah.

  The captain of the small boat tried to engage Edward in conversation, but the moody Edward was unwilling to talk with the captain. He was like a man driven. He stood on deck and watched the waves lap at the side of the boat. Each forward motion was taking him nearer his destination. His eyes burned with an inner fire.

  When they finally reached Savannah, the captain found Edward very generous. He paid the man twice the amount he had asked. He could afford to be generous. Soon, very soon, he would face Victoria; and God help her, she would pay dearly for what she had done.

  He had no trouble finding the tax office, where he paid the taxes, and asked for a map showing him the way to Farraday Plantation. The man behind the desk drew Edward a map that would be easy for him to follow, and told him where he could find a livery stable so he could acquire a mount.

  31

  The next morning Edward was up early. He had traveled quite a way on the road from Savannah before he realized he had eaten nothing since the noon meal yesterday. A force stronger than himself pushed him on, driving him relentlessly.

  It was shortly before noon when he reached Farraday Plantation. He rode down a tree-lined driveway. The fields he passed were lush and green. He paid them no heed, however. He saw, through the break in the trees, the white manor house itself.

  Edward dismounted and an old man came forward to take his horse. He climbed the stairs and rapped on the door. The smell of lilacs filled his nostrils. He looked about him as he waited for an answer to his knock, and he saw a lilac bush in full bloom. A porch swing swayed gently in the breeze. He noticed the neatly trimmed hedges.

  Finally, the door was opened. A tall Negro woman, with her head wrapped in a white bandanna stood before him.

  "Is Mrs. Hanover in?" Edward inquired.

  "No, sir, she ain't," came the reply.

  Edward frowned. Suppose she was not here and it was just another dead end.

  "Is the lady of the house in?"

  "No, sir, I just told you she ain't."

  He looked at her quickly. "Mrs. Hanover is living here?" he asked, hardly able to breathe.

  "Yes, sir, but I told you she ain't home just now."

  He relaxed. "I am Edward Hanover. I would like to come in and wait if you do not mind."

  The black woman looked at him suspiciously. "Miss Victoria don't know nothing about you being here."

  "You know who I am?"

  "Yes, sir; you is Miss Victoria's husband."

  "That is correct. I would like to come in and wait for her if I may."

  The dark eyes looked him over. "Well, I don't know. Miss Victoria never told me nothing about you."

  "No matter," Edward said. "I will wait on the porch."

  "I guess you can come in," the woman said hesitantly.

  He flashed her a smile. "Thank you. Would your name be Becky, by any chance?"

  "Well, it sure is," she said, warming to the handsome stranger. She opened the door wide to admit him.

  Edward looked about the entry hall, but saw nothing to show that Victoria lived there.

  "I will have Moss stable your horse, Mr. Hanover."

  "I would appreciate that, Becky. Where is my son?" he asked anxiously.

  "He is right upstairs, Mr. Hanover."

  "May I see him?"

  Becky shook her head. "I don't know, Mr. Hanover. Miss Victoria might not like it."

  "I have come a long way to see him, Becky. You do not want to disappoint me, do you?"

  Becky was no different from any female when Edward Hanover turned on his charm. She smiled and reconsidered. "I guess it will be all right since you came so far."

  She led the way up the stairs. Edward could feel excitement at the thought of seeing his son. Becky opened the door and waited for Edward to enter.

  "Oh, look. My little lamb is awake," she cooed.

  Edward stood in the middle of the room. He could see a chubby leg stuck through the slats of the crib. He walked over to Becky, who lifted the baby in her arms.

  "This is your father, Farraday. Oh, ain't he a little love, Mr. Hanover?" Becky asked, beaming down at the child she held in her arms.

  Edward looked at the tiny boy. His hair was as black as his own. He had deep-brown eyes fringed with long black lashes. His little arms and legs were chubby. His face was beautiful, angelic.

  Edward could not understand the feeling that took possession of him. This was his son, his very own flesh and blood.

  "May I hold him, Becky?" Edward asked in an unsteady voice.

  She smiled and handed the baby to him. Edward felt a kind of love that he had never before experienced. He held the little body close to him.

  "What is his name?"

  "Michael Farraday Hanover," Becky told him.

  He held his son against his rough cheek, feeling the smooth skin next to his own. "You called him Farraday a moment ago."

  "Yes, that is what Miss Victoria calls him."

  "May I be alone with him for a while, Becky?"

  "I guess you can, Mr. Hanover. I'll just go and makes you and Farraday some lunch. Bring him downstairs when you ready to eat."

  Edward waited for her to leave; then he sat down and held Farraday in his lap. "My son, surely you are the most beautiful baby there has ever been." He felt a lump in his throat. Farraday patted his cheek and laughed up at him.

  Edward kissed the baby-soft skin that was like satin to his lips. His heart swelled with love. Before today, his son had been faceless, someone he wanted because he belonged to him. He had not expected to feel this overwhelming love for a tiny bit of humanit
y. This was his son, his hope for the future. After such a long time of not caring about anything, here was a reason for living. He had found his son, and Edward pitied anyone who would try to keep Farraday from him.

  Edward examined the tiny hand. It was so small compared to his own. He felt the silky black hair. "Well, Farraday, you are everything a son should be. One day, we will ride together across Rio del Lobo, and I will show you your heritage."

  Farraday was jabbering in baby talk, and Edward laughed heartily.

  "Come on, Farraday, let us go downstairs and see what Becky has prepared for lunch."

  Becky heard his boots on the stairs, and showed him into the dining room.

  "Does you want to feed Farraday, Mr. Hanover?"

  He smiled at her. "I do not know how, Becky."

  "Well, I'll do it, and you can watch," she told him.

  Edward ate the food Becky set before him. It was the first time he had tasted anything for a long time. He laughed and felt light-hearted as he watched Farraday dribble food down his chin. "Not much you can say about his table manners, is there, Becky?"

  "Give him time. He's going to grow up to be a fine gentleman someday."

  "Becky, isn't he an unusually handsome baby?" Edward asked.

  She flashed him a smile. "Well, sure he is. He is almost as pretty as his mother was. You should have seen her. She had blond curly hair and the biggest blue eyes."

  Edward's eyes narrowed. "When do you think she will be home, Becky?"

  "I don't rightly know. Mr. Bodine is in Savannah until tomorrow, so she will have to see to his chores as well as her own; most likely she'll be late."

  Edward spent the afternoon with his son until the wet nurse came to feed Farraday and put him down for the night. Edward walked down the path, which led to the river, at the back of the house.

  Farraday Plantation was beautiful. He wondered how Victoria had gotten the money to rebuild the house and hire workers to put in the crops. What a fool he was. He remembered all the pain and agony he had gone through searching for her and worrying about her. He had once thought she loved him, but if so, she could not have been so cruel. Let her have her precious plantation, but she could not have his son.

  Edward knew now how he would exact his revenge on Victoria. He would take his son back to Texas, and she could go to hell, he thought.

  His eyes blazed; a muscle in his jaw twitched. Even the new-found love for his son was overshadowed by his need to hurt Victoria.

  He walked back to the house. Becky showed him into the study to wait for Victoria. She assured him it was the first place Victoria would come after she checked on Farraday.

  "Do not tell her I am here, Becky. I want to surprise her."

  "No, I won't, Mr. Hanover," she told him.

  Edward looked about the room. The only furnishings were a mahogany desk, a chair, and a sofa. A thick wine-colored rug covered the floor, and wine-colored drapes hung at the window. The bookshelves that lined one wall were virtually empty. He had to give her credit, since she had started with nothing. Give the devil her due, he thought, with a cruel smile on his lips.

  His eyes wandered to the mantel and a portrait which hung on the wall above it. He drew in his breath. He stood beneath it, looking up at the lovely face. No, it was not Victoria, as he had thought at first, but someone very like her. The eyes were different; the mouth was not the same. Her mother, Mary Elizabeth, he thought.

  Edward heard the sound of a horse on the front drive. He waited, his nerves on edge. Then he heard the voice that had haunted him for so many months.

  "Moss, have Josh check out Warwick's front hoof. I think the left shoe is loose."

  Edward heard the old man reply; he heard Victoria's footsteps as she came up the steps. Then the front door opened.

  "Becky, how was Farraday today?"

  "He was a little lamb as always."

  "I hate it when I do not get home before he goes to bed. Serve my dinner in the study. I just want to run up and check on him."

  Edward heard her go up the stairs. He did not realize he was breathing hard. It seemed an eternity until he heard Victoria come downstairs again. He watched as the door handle turned, and she entered the study.

  She did not see him. Her head was bent over the stack of letters in her hand. Before him, looking more beautiful than ever, stood his enemy, Victoria. Her hair had grown longer, he noticed. It hung over her shoulders almost to her waist. She was dressed in black britches, black boots, and a white shirt. Motherhood had ripened her already-curvaceous body.

  She kicked the door shut with her foot. Edward felt as though his heart twisted out of his body. He waited for her to look up.

  Victoria sensed another presence. Her eyes traveled across the room. She saw a pair of highly polished boots. Her eyes traveled up long lean legs in black tight-fitting britches, to a white silk shirt. She knew who it was before her eyes reached his handsome face. He looked at her; his eyes burned into hers.

  Victoria felt the shell she had built around herself crack. She never knew how much she had missed him until that moment. All the love seemed to burst from her heart. She wanted to run to him, to feel his strong arms about her, restoring life to her once more. There was no welcome in his face, however; only a look of contempt so strong it frightened her.

  "So, Victoria, we meet at last." Edward's voice was deadly.

  "How did you find me?" she whispered.

  "Oh, you were very clever, Victoria. You covered your tracks very well. You forgot only one small detail. You forgot they sent the tax statement for Farraday Plantation to me."

  "I do not understand."

  "The tax office informed me the taxes had been raised because of a dwelling that had been built on the property."

  She shook her head. "I never thought of that."

  "Obviously."

  His eyes raked her slim body, resting where her shirt fit snugly across her breasts. "I must compliment your tailor, Mrs. Hanover," he said sarcastically.

  "I am glad you approve," she told him hotly.

  He walked slowly toward her. She stepped back a pace. He towered over her. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face.

  "Have you no greeting for your husband, Victoria?" He was looking at the softness of her lips.

  "Why did you come?" she whispered, feeling weak from his nearness. Her body cried out for his touch.

  "Don't you know, Victoria?" He let his eyes roam over her body.

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  "Did you just come from the arms of Paul O'Brian? Is that what kept you out so late? If I remember correctly, your many charms are quite delightful," Edward accused her.

  She raised her hand and struck him hard across the face. He flinched. Victoria saw the red marks left by her hand.

  "Do not judge me by your standards, Edward. You are the one who found pleasure in another's arms."

  "To hell with that!" Edward hissed. He grabbed her arm and pinned it behind her back painfully. He brought her against his body with such force that she dropped the letters she held in her hand. The nearness of him made her feel weak.

  "How shall I exact my revenge on you, Victoria? I have dreamed of having you helpless in my arms. Shall I apply pressure to your arm, Victoria? I could break it easily." She struggled against him. "No? What if I scar your beautiful face so no other man will want to look at you?" He traced a line down her face with his finger. She shivered. "No? Let me think," he said, playing with her as a cat would a mouse. He gathered up a long golden tress of hair and wrapped it about her neck. "Maybe I should strangle you. Some would say I have the right."

  "What do I care?" she whispered, fear prickling her spine.

  Edward released her. "Forgive me, Victoria. It is not my habit to abuse helpless women, although you are hardly helpless, are you?" he said contemptuously.

  Her legs felt weak. He really did hate her, she thought. She walked over to the window and closed the wine-colored drapes. It ga
ve her time to compose herself. Then she gathered up the letters from the floor where they had fallen. Walking over to the desk, she sat down, opened a drawer, and took out a tin box. She looked up at Edward.

  "How much were the taxes? Two hundred?"

  "No, five."

  She counted out some bills. She rose and walked across the room to him. "This should cover it."

  He looked at her lazily. "It is not money I want from you, Victoria."

  "Money is all that I have that you are welcome to, Edward," she told him defiantly.

  "Oh, no, you have much more." He let his eyes caress her body. She retreated a step. Edward laughed. "No, Victoria, I do not want you. Paul 0'Brian is welcome to you if he does not mind another man's leavings."

  She felt as though he had struck her.

  "I have come for my son," he told her evenly.

  "No!" she cried. "You cannot have him. He is mine! You would have killed him, have you forgotten?"

  Edward grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her face up to his. "Did you not think it tore my heart out? What makes you think I loved our baby any less than you did? You made me pay for loving you, Victoria. Do you have any idea what you put me through?" His eyes burned into hers. "I am taking my son to Rio del Lobo where he belongs."

  Victoria moved out of the circle of his arms. "You have no right to him, Edward," she whispered.

  "Oh, I have the right, and I will take him; make no mistake about that, Victoria."

  "I can never forgive you for what you did to me, Edward."

  "We are in agreement on one point then, Victoria, because I cannot forgive you either. If you wanted to punish me, then rest assured you punished me sorely. Though I do not think the crime fit the punishment." His eyes were cold. "I loved you, Victoria. God, how I loved you. So much I was willing to give up my baby because I could not bear the thought of losing you."

  "There was no evidence of that love when I found Monica in your arms," she said hotly, some of her old confidence returning.

  He frowned at her. "What I told you that day was the truth. You had so little faith in me you did not believe me then. I do not give a damn if you believe me now."