Elusive Hope

by Marylu Tyndall

  But it was her last night with him. And despite the threat to her heart, she wanted to make it a night to remember.

  He was still staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Was her hair out of place? Suddenly self-conscious, she began stuffing loose strands into her bun. But a gentle touch to her hand halted her, charmed her into saying, “I do have a favor to ask of you, Hayden.”

  “And what is that, Princess?”

  “Would you dance with me?”

  Was the princess flirting with him? By her coquettish grin and the way she lowered her lashes innocently, Hayden could come to no other conclusion. After he’d forced her to welcome that foppish squab’s attentions, he wouldn’t blame her if she poured her drink on his head and stomped off. Instead, she asked him to dance!

  He cocked his head. She was up to something. But what? Perhaps she hoped to convince him to escort her to the States. Which—no matter how much he wanted to—he couldn’t do. Perhaps she hoped to lessen the amount she owed him. Which now he needed more than ever if he was going to find his father. He glanced at the couples floating across the floor in a country dance. Whatever her reasons, the lady did have a point. Since they were here in the midst of this elaborate party, why not enjoy it?

  He offered his arm. “I’d love to.”

  Delight brightened her smile as he led her onto the floor, took her hand, and joined the other couples bobbing and gliding to the music.

  “Why did you tell Mr. Santos I was your wife?” Magnolia asked as they bowed to each other.

  “I thought it might temper the man’s passions.” Hayden took her hand and together they strolled down the line of couples.

  “Why temper them if their very existence brought you the information you sought?” Her voice was sharp, her chin lifted.

  “If you’re asking whether there was a limit to the price I would see you pay, there was.” He took both her hands and spun her around. “And Mr. Santos had reached that limit when you shoved him into the pond.”

  At this she giggled, though an odd pain lingered behind her eyes.

  “Besides, I knew he could not resist your charms for long.”

  She gave him a disbelieving look, but for once, Hayden spoke the truth, for he was having trouble resisting her himself. The way little wisps of her flaxen hair bobbed about her neck as she danced, the delicate curve of her jaw, her high cheeks flushed with excitement, and her lips swollen and pink. The gossamer lace edging her low neckline rose and fell with each breath, drawing his gaze, though he tried not to look. Save for a few beads in her hair, she wore no jewels or baubles, no silver combs or satin sashes, yet she outshone every woman there. And those eyes—blue as sapphires—flashing like lightning. And just like lightning, they were electric and powerful. Especially when they looked at him as she was looking at him now.

  They finished the dance, but at her request, they stayed on the floor and continued with a Scottish Reel. And then another dance and another, stopping only for refreshments and a stroll in the garden. Her laughter became his healing elixir, her smile his hope. Hours sped by like minutes, and for the first time in his life, Hayden found he was enjoying himself. Immensely. All because of Magnolia. Her coy glances, her witty repartee, the way she looked at him as though she saw a prince instead of a toad.

  He knew she could have her choice of any gentleman present, most of whom bore the noble posture of gentility and wealth, not the stink of an impoverished orphan. Instead, she seemed to barely notice the men who looked her way, her attention fixed on him alone. She was his for tonight. The realization made his chest swell. He felt as though someone had placed a precious gem in his hand and charged him with its care. Instead of dodging the assignment, he cherished it.

  Zooks, what was happening to him? No doubt it was the wine, the rich food, the music and opulence. It combined to spin a magical web, deluding him into believing that he was not a thief and an orphan and she was not a stunning patrician. And that perhaps they might have a chance together.

  He brought her a glass of lemonade, ignoring her look of disappointment at the drink. But he’d had a hard time resisting her in the jungle when she’d been inebriated. He doubted he could summon enough self-control in this magical place.

  “You dance marvelously,” she commented.

  “That surprises you?”

  “Yes.” She looked at him but there was no condescension in her eyes. “Where did you learn?”

  Hayden grinned. “Here and there.”

  “Ah yes, I’ve seen your skill at sneaking into parties uninvited.”

  “It does come in handy. I will teach you some time.”

  She lowered her gaze as if a sudden sadness stole her joy.

  He determined to gain it back. “You look lovely tonight.”

  She raised sparkling eyes to his. “Ah, a compliment. The first one you’ve paid me.” She began fiddling with her hair.

  He stayed her hand. “Your hair is perfect.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. The music, the laughter, the exotic sound of Portuguese, all faded around them as their eyes locked together. Time floated on a whisper—a whisper that held all his dreams in its breath. A whisper that danced around them, between them, caressing her face, stirring her curls, filling him with her scent, with a hope that dangled within reach. Her eyes shifted between his as if seeking an answer.

  But what was the question? Was it the same one that burned on his heart?

  Could a pampered rich plantation owner’s daughter love a baseborn swindler?

  But he already knew the answer.

  Not in the real world.

  Tonight was a fantasy, a dream. And it would soon come to an end. Especially when the sun rose in the morning and she found out the truth.

  CHAPTER 17

  Darkness cloaked the stairs leading up to Magnolia’s hotel room. She tripped on one of the treads and Hayden’s arm swung around her waist.

  “I told you to stop drinking wine,” he said.

  “I didn’t have too much,” she shot back. “I simply can’t see the steps.” The only light came from a sputtering lantern on the landing above them. Not that she minded Hayden’s arm around her. She’d felt his touch quite often during the night. With each possessive press on her back, each grip on her elbow, each squeeze of her hand, he’d been staking claim on her, making her feel cared for and protected for the first time in her life.

  The steps creaked. Her skirts swished. The rhythmic tick of a clock joined the distant pattering of a mouse as they reached the top. The hallway spun and she leaned on Hayden. Perhaps she had overindulged just a bit.

  What a wonderful evening! Dancing, the orchestra, the wine and delicacies. And Hayden looking so dashingly handsome. The way he’d swept her across the dance floor with the style and grace of any aristocrat while a multitude of envious eyes followed them. It was a dream, an incredible, magical dream. Yet now her feet felt as heavy as cannon balls.

  Hayden was silent beside her. Was he distraught at their parting? Halting before her door, she spun to face him. Lantern light rippled over the firm lines of his jaw, his cheeks, and over the speck of sorrow in his green eyes. He stared at her lips and licked his own. For a brief, exhilarating moment, she thought he might kiss her again.

  Instead he swallowed, shifted his stance, and leaned in to whisper, “I had a wonderful time tonight.” His warm breath fondled her neck and spiraled a pleasurable shiver down her back. She gripped the door handle behind her. Anything to keep from throwing herself in his arms. From begging him to come with her to the States. From telling him that she’d never felt this way about any man before. Not even Samuel. Or it had been so long since she’d seen her fiancé that she’d simply forgotten? Regardless, she should say goodnight, slip inside her room, and close the door before she did something only an unchaste woman would do.

  “I enjoyed myself as well,” she replied, soaking in every detail of his face, his strong Roman nose, sculpted cheeks, thick brows and la
shes that matched his dark hair, and the stubble that circled his mouth and trailed his jaw. She never wanted to forget him.

  Hayden scratched that stubble now and met her gaze. The tick-tock tick-tock of a clock down in the lobby counted out their final moments together. Final moments only she knew about. For he no doubt assumed he’d be escorting her to the dock master come morning. Snoring rumbled down the hall. Hayden’s breathing grew deep. He seemed as unwilling to leave her as she was him. Finally, he grinned. “So you didn’t mind spending an evening with a toad?”

  “I make concessions for toads who know how to dance.”

  “But you would prefer a prince?” He eased a lock of her hair behind her ear, suddenly serious.

  The intimate gesture nearly caused her to blurt out No! I much prefer the toad! But instead she lifted her chin and said, “Of course. What princess wouldn’t?”

  He frowned. Good. She must stop this dangerous dalliance or she’d be done for. She forced her thoughts to what she must do in the morning—escape this man, leave him behind.

  “Where will you stay tonight?” she asked.

  “I’ll find somewhere. I’m used to being on the streets, remember?”

  Yes, she did. And it endeared him to her all the more. She’d never met a man like him. He’d suffered so much, grown up without a single advantage, yet he was more competent than any man she’d known. Even Samuel, who although he was a successful solicitor, could barely start a fire without a servant’s help.

  Hayden studied her, a sudden twinkle in his eyes. “Hmm. I do recall, however, that in your Maiden and the Frog story, the young lady made a bargain with the toad that allowed him to share her bed for two nights.”

  Magnolia would have slapped any other man for such an insinuation, or at least slammed the door in his face, but she knew Hayden, could hear the teasing in his voice. “You remember correctly, sir. But I believe he gave her something first, something invaluable to her survival.”

  “Alas, I have brought you to Rio, my princess.”

  “And you will be paid,” she lied.

  He sighed and loosened his string tie. “Very well. If you don’t wish to see the toad transformed into a prince…”

  Magnolia wouldn’t tell him that he had already made the transformation. “But you forget the end of the story. After the toad spent two nights with the maiden, she had to chop off his head in order for him to turn into a prince.”

  Hayden rubbed his throat, his brow crinkling.“On second thought, I believe I’ll remain a toad.” He grinned, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. “Sweet dreams to you, fair maiden.”Then with a wink, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

  Chirp, tweet, chirp, tweet, the shrill clamor pierced Magnolia’s ears and penetrated her blissful slumber. She groaned and tossed the quilt over her head. Mercy me, why did the jungle always have to wake up so early? Wait. She wasn’t in the jungle. Moving her hands, she felt the scratchy fabric of the bed sheets. She wasn’t in a hammock on a ship or on her feather bed in Roswell either. Or even on a bamboo cot in New Hope. Her mind snapped to attention. She was in some shamble of a hotel in Rio de Janeiro. But she wasn’t complaining. It was the first night she’d slept on a mattress in nearly five months. Chirp, chirp. Drawing the cover from her head, Magnolia pried one eye open to find a small, plump, and very colorful bird sitting on her window ledge. Behind the winged annoyance, a pinkish-gray glow chased away the night.

  “Shoo! Go away!” She swatted the air and closed her eye again. An unavoidable smile curved her lips as memories from last night came out from hiding. The ball, the music, dancing, Hayden…

  She let out a satisfied moan and stretched across the lumpy mattress that was, no doubt, home to a myriad of tiny beasties. But what did it matter? She’d had such a marvelous evening—a fairy tale evening, an evening she wished had never come to an end. But it had…and today…

  She shot up in bed, rubbed her eyes, and glanced once more at the window. Dawn. She must leave before Hayden arrived! The bird cocked his red-feathered head and stared at her curiously.

  “I suppose I should thank you for waking me, little one.”

  Leaping from the bed, she made quick work of her morning toilette, all the while ignoring the pain lancing through her heart. Pain at leaving Hayden. Wasn’t this what she wanted? To go back home, find Samuel, and get married? She shook her head as she made her way to the wardrobe, trying to break the spell Hayden had cast on her. Last night was a fantasy. Today, she was back to reality. Today she would begin her journey home.

  After dressing, she packed everything in her valise and checked herself in the mirror, pleased she’d been able to pin up her hair in a fashionable coiffure all by herself. Removing a slip of paper and a pen and ink from her case, she scribbled out a note.

  Hayden,

  I’m sorry. Hope you can forgive me someday…Yours affectionately,

  Magnolia

  Short and to the point. No sentimentality. He would appreciate that. No doubt he was still fast asleep somewhere and wouldn’t see this for hours. And she’d be long gone. She hoped. For she didn’t think she could handle saying good-bye to him again.

  Releasing a heavy sigh, she cast one final glance at the bird who still stared at her from the window before she grabbed the door latch and swung it open.

  To find Hayden sound asleep on the bench across the hallway.

  Hayden peeled his eyes open and was rewarded with a vision of loveliness tiptoeing past him. Lovely until she saw him looking at her and her expression crumpled. She halted with a huff. “What on earth are you doing here, Hayden?” Her shrill voice bore no resemblance to the soft, enchanting cadence of last night. Had the princess turned into a pumpkin while she slept? All the better. For it would make his task today much easier.

  Rubbing his aching eyes, he sat, leaned forward, and placed his elbows on his knees. “I was protecting you.” And keeping you from leaving without me. He wouldn’t tell her that he’d sensed something in her last night, something secretive, duplicitous.

  “Protecting me?” The hard edge to her voice softened.

  Hayden raked his hair back and gazed up at her. “Rio’s not the safest town, nor are we in the safest location down here by the docks.”

  Her delicate eyebrows folded together, and she glanced toward the stairs as if she wished to escape. “How very chivalrous of you,” she mumbled. Then why did she seem so troubled and distant?

  She faced him, her smile tight as a stretched bow. “You must not have slept at all on that hard bench. Why don’t you go lie on the bed? I believe we have the room until noon, do we not? In the meantime, I will go see about some food and perhaps stop by the dock master’s.” She batted the air around her face, her gaze skittering about. “After the news about this Godard fellow, I assume you aren’t going back to the States with me. So, after I book passage, I’ll return to say good-bye.”

  Uneasy at her nervous chattering, Hayden rose and cocked a brow. “And pay me.”

  “Of course.” She gave an exaggerated giggle. “Well then, I shall see you in an hour or so. Do get some rest, Hayden. You look an absolute fright.” Sorrow cracked her voice, and he thought he saw moisture cover her eyes before she turned to leave.

  Hayden caught her arm. She didn’t turn around.

  “I’ve no need for further rest, Princess, though I’m thrilled by your concern.” Why was she behaving so strangely? “Perhaps it’s best you pay me now.”

  She tugged from his grip and took a step back, her gaze lowering to the stained and marred floorboards. A man emerged from the room next door, assessed them for a moment, then tipped his hat and headed downstairs.

  Magnolia’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure how much my ticket will be.”

  “Then I will accompany you.”

  Speechless—for once—she stared at him. Or more like through him as alarm screamed in her eyes. Yes, indeed, there was definitely some tomfoolery afoot. Foolish girl! She obviously had no idea who
she was dealing with.

  After a vain attempt to press the wrinkles from his coat and trousers, Hayden escorted her from the hotel. Better to tell her the truth away from prying eyes and ears, away from people who might wish to intervene in the ensuing confrontation. And what a confrontation it would be when he told her he had no intention of allowing her to put her life at risk by traveling back to the States alone.

  Except for a few people, wagons, and chickens milling about, the street was refreshingly empty. Bright fingers of sunlight curled over the edge of the water, spreading a coral ribbon across the horizon and splashing violet on the underbellies of clouds. Sugar Loaf, the peak guarding the bay, rose like a dark thumb imprinted onto the majestic painting. The smell of fish, salt, bananas, and mangoes swirled about Hayden as he battled a myriad of conflicting emotions.

  Magnolia hurried along, head down, and valise pressed to her heaving chest. Perhaps she was simply nervous about her upcoming voyage. But soon enough, she would be relieved of such fears.

  Of course, he had to get his money from her first. Before she got to the dock master and bought a useless ticket. Turning, he scanned the street, seeking a coffee shop or fruit stand where he could entice her to stop for a moment. Nothing but houses and hotels and a gaudy French theater lined the avenue. Dread clenching his stomach, he faced forward again.

  Magnolia was gone.

  His heart lurched. He scanned the sparse crowd for a flash of flaxen hair and blue skirts. There, darting down a narrow passage between a cigar shop and a stall selling fine silks. Cursing himself for his stupidity, he tore after her, down the alleyway, out onto a main street bustling with activity. Good thing he was taller than most for he had a clear view of her light hair threading the crowd like a needle through canvas.