She looked up, meaning to call the woman back, but Mrs. Tibbs and Lilith had reached dryland and were fast making their way to a waiting carriage. Grabbing her bag, Gwen headed towards the plank ends, finding that she must wait in line, since everyone else had gotten there before her. As her bag group recently heavy in the warm morning sun, found herself wishing the fog would return.
When she finally disembarked, she found no one waiting, nor did anyone approach her as she made her tentative way along the dock. It did not help to see Mrs. Tibbs and Lilith will off any fine looking carriage. Gwen tried to say good riddance, but she grew painfully conscious of the other passengers locating their convoys, while she continued to wait.
Not one family face appeared, and a nasty suspicion grew in her mind. Had father-with no little help from Edith-forgotten send someone to fetch her home?
She tried not to panic, but she had no money, and had never before had to make her own traveling arrangements. There might be friends here in the city who could help her, but she had not the least idea how to reach them. Someone else had always dwelled with such details; she had merely gone along for the ride.
Yet clearly, she could not stay where she was. As the crowds thinned, the hurling to their homes and businesses, she grew aware of this cedar elements that haunted the docks. Early dressed men strolled by with a predatory glance; overblown females, lounging in doorways, I’d her with contemptuous humor. You don’t belong here, their gazes told her, and she was more than inclined to agree.
Searching the docks again, he told herself her escort would come; hadn’t she bet Mrs. Tibbs that her fiancé would be here, eager and adoring? Please let him appear, she thought in a rising panic. Let anyone appear. Indeed, she’d marry the first man to calm to her rescue
“Oh Merlin.” She whispered, looking about her frantically, “wave your magical wand again and show me my valiant knight.”
She saw his eyes first, dark and intense, a deep melting brown that seemed somehow familiar, though she could not imagine where they might have met. Girls in her social position were carefully shielded, allowed it to converse with only the top of society, and a male who could stare so intensely, so strongly, could not possibly be a gentleman.
He leaned against the door of one of the more disreputable establishments, watching her, and though Gwen knew she should ignore him, she found herself staring back, tall and sinfully handsome, with his shiny black hair and school did features, he was every girl’s dream of a pirate.
And for the briefest moment, Gwen let herself imagine how it would be to be pursued by such a man. A secret passionate, stolen kiss-what an exciting game they could play. He would stalk her, and she let him-though only up to a point, for she never risk her reputation with such a rogue. Playing with this man be like playing with fire, and it would take great care and discretion to make certain she did not get burned.
A perilous situation, yes, but wasn’t that its appeal?
As if hearing her thoughts, his expression intensified, looking suddenly more dangerous than Gwen really wanted.
She started, glancing nervously about her, belatedly reminding her precautious position. Whatever had she been thinking of, daydreaming in the middle of the street about a common stranger? On closer scrutiny, she decided to put the emphasis on common, though he was indeed a stranger. How dare he stare as if he knew her. What cause would she have to be acquainted with one who wore patched, homespun clothing, and worn, unpolished boots?
Looking away, anxiously to avoid any further contact, she spun, her fear and indignation causing the bag swing with unsuitable arc. It took the thought of for her brain to absorb the facts that someone had been in its path.
“She tried to kill me,” a child shrieked as scrambled up off the ground “did you see that? She tried to knock me in the water.”
“I did no such thing.” Appalled, Gwen stared at the boy. Filthy was too kind a word; you must have acquired all the available dirt from here to Alabama. “Though putting you in the water might not be all that bad an idea,” she added, sniffing delicately. “When precisely was the last time you had a bath?”
“Did you hear her?” The child asked his comrades, four more children in tattered clothing. “First she knocks me down and then she insults me.”
The tallest strode up, his manner belligerent, his voice twice as loud. “You be careful how you talk to John.”
Anxious to avoid a scene, Gwen turn to go.
“Hey, wait,” the tallest boy shouted. “You apologize to John.”
Horrified, Gwen could only think of getting away, but the breaths followed as she hurried along the dock. “Patrick spoke to you,” one called John cried out, grabbing her arm. “Don’t you dare ignore my brother.”
Brother? Of course, she could have seen the family resemblance in the dirt, though granted, they shared the same dark care and eyes. “I suggest you remove your hand this instant before I enforced to contact the authorities. I doubt the sheriff would be happy to hear you have been way laying people.”
“Waylaying-“John sputtered. “It’s was not us. You do not even look where you were going.”
“How could she?” One of the others jeered. “Her nose is so high in the air, she can’t even see nothing but sky.”
Gwen was so furious, it was all she could do not respond in kind. Conscious of a curious crowd gathering to watch, she reminded herself that she was a lady. “Highly lower your voice,” she told them through clenched teeth. “You’re making a scene.”
“Darn right we are, and we’ll keep on making one until we get an apology.” John stood, arms folded at the chest and legs planted firmly. “You had no call to insult me like you did.”
Gwen bit back another insult. “Might I suggest that you and your game of ruffians step out of my-“
“Ruffians?” They shouted at once, their comments censoring primarily on her parentage and lack of a heart, but nowhere in their words was a mention of moving out of the way. Instead, they circled closer, taunting her, and drawing a larger crowd.
“Little brats,” she hissed at them. “Did your mother never teach you your manners?”
“You leave mama out of this” to Gwen’s fear, John came at her, fists flailing, the boys in quick pursuit.
Thinking of those ten filthy hands on her green wool skirt, Gwen twirled. She dropped her bag in her haste to escape, which was as well, for once again, someone blocked her way. It was not a small boy this time, but rather a man, as evidenced by the large chest shielding her face. If not for the two strong arms reaching out steady her, she too could have been knocked into the water.
My rescuer, she thought. Merlin had indeed waived his wand and sent her this brave knight.
“Those boys, was ruffians,” she said breathlessly. “They will not leave me alone.”
Stepping back, Gwen became suddenly aware that he’d been holding her closer-and longer-then the situation would call for, yet not nearly long enough for her needs. She rather like the comfort she found, being held against that’s warm, sturdy chest.
But as she gazed at it and so the home spun shirt, she realized it’s wasn’t Lance, or any other possible suitor. Looking up into dark, glittering eyes, he found her pirate from earlier.
Up close, he appeared more dangerous than ever.
When he told the children to leave, she wasn’t surprised at how readily they swallowed their protests. Faced with his fearsome scowl, she too would probably slink off with alacrity muttering, like they did, under her breath.
When the children were out of hearing, the stranger turned his glare on her. Amazing, what one man could put into a single expression. Gwen could see his anger, his suspicion, and resentment, and it was all she could do not back up out of his way.
Before he could move, a voice rang out behind her. “Gwyneth Elizabeth McCloud, is that you?”
She spun, her heart leaping with joy. She knew that voice Lance, hero and he devoted Lancelot, had appeared yet again when she was
most in need of rescue.
Clearly not as impressed with lance’s appearance, the other man look with disguised contempt. Trying to deny her earlier response to him, Gwen went instantly to Lance’s side.
Lance held her gently, as if she were too fragile for any rough handling. “What is this?” He said with a laugh in his voice. “Are you truly so happy to see me?”
“Oh Lance, you cannot know what I’ve had to endure I’ve had to stand here, alone and unprotected, and be assaulted by strangers.”
Lance stiffened, Gwen looked up to catch the glare he gave the other man. Good heavens, she didn’t want him dueling over this, shedding blood is some useless battle for her honor. “Oh, no, not him,” she said quickly, breaking away to point at the children in the distance. “There, that gang of ruffians. They are the ones who assaulted me.”
“I beg to differ” the man said, his deep voice cutting into her, “but from where I stood, it looked as if you were assaulting them.”
Lance tensed again, setting her to the side. “If Miss Gwen said she was the injured party, I have no choice but to believe her.”
“No choice?”
“Of course not. A true gentleman always takes the word of a lady.”
“Perhaps.” The man’s smile did little to warm his features. “But since no one has ever accused me of being a gentleman, I can speak the truth as I see it.”
Lance reached for an imaginary sword at his hip, a gesture he’d often use in their games. Frighten as to where his sense of honor might lead him, Gwen placed a hand on his arm. “Lance, please, do not make a scene.”
Lance visibly restrained himself. “I have no wish to engage in a public brawl over this,” he said coldly. “I for one wish spare Ms. Gwen any further unpleasantness.”
“Of course. Always spare the lady.”
Gwen was stunned I the man’s bitterness. And not a little unnerved. “Please, can we go?” She begged Lance.
He offered his arm and she took it gratefully, happy to let him lead her away. Reaching the carriage, though, she could not resist glancing back.
As if expecting all along that she will look for him, the man grins with irritating insolence. He continued to stand there, arms folded across his chest, his cool, assessing gaze making her feel as if she’d forgotten a vital piece of clothing.
Tightening her hold on Lance’s arm, he stared straight ahead, determined not to let that awful man spoil her home coming. She could forget him, and the challenge she read in his deep, dark eyes. She was home now, and she had Lance beside her.
She looked up at Lance, letting his smooth, good looks sooth her spirits. From his Golden hair to his gleaming boots, this was the man she’d always loved, the hero to whom she’d built all her dreams, and now that she was a woman grown, they would rule the Willows together. Gwen and Lancelot, for ever and always.
Surely it was a good sign that he’d come here to meet her. Maybe it meant that daddy had relented. And even if not, hadn’t she sworn to marry first man to greet her?
The first gentleman, she swiftly corrected, casting a last, on the easy glance back at the stranger.
Chapter 2
Bewildered, Gwen let herself be helped into the waiting carriage, Lance taking his seat beside her. She trusted him to know what he was doing, yet she couldn’t help but wonder why they needed a carriage take them to the steamboat. Noticing how the driver turned into the city, she shouted out. “Lance, where are you taking me?” She asked, glancing anxiously about her. “Shouldn’t we be booking a passage up river if we hope to reach the Willows before dark?”
“All in good time.” He flashed his most winning smile. “I can’t tell you where we are going. Meant to be a surprise.”
Normally, Gwen adored surprises, but she was anxious to get to the Willows. “That’s sweet of you,” she said slowly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, “but I need to get home. It’s been so long. I want to see daddy. I’m a tad bit worried about him.”
“John is fine.” Taking her hand in his, Lance padded it’s reassuringly.
Gwen might have been soothed had he not avoided her gaze. “What is it?” She asked quickly, pulling back her hand. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” His life seemed forced. “Your daddy…” Stopped, then sighed. “I declare, Gwen Elizabeth, you take the fun out of everything. Where is the pleasure in betting up the surprise, if you refuse to sit back and enjoy it?”
Gwen’s heart made a little leap, even as her mind did. Did Lance’s evasive manner mean her daddy was here, that he might even be behind the surprise? “Perhaps I might relax,” he said eyeing Lance coyly, “if I knew where you were taking me.”
“You always could worry a thing down to the bone. Very well, we’re going to your daddy’s townhouse. There, are you satisfied?”
“The townhouse?” As far as Gwen knew, no one had used their city home since… Well, since mama. “Why there?”
He turned to her than, his expression plain. “For pity’s sake. After such a long and tired some journey, he simply thought you might enjoy a night out on the town.”
“We?” Without realizing it, Gwen crossed fingers hopefully.
“We’ll all be staying at the townhouse. Your uncle Jervis, Edith, and myself. What is wrong now that you must look so unenthused?”
“You know very well what happens whenever you and my cousin are together under one roof.”
Lance shook his head. “I, too, had my doubts about the arrangements, but to date, she’s been on her best behavior. Why, she’s positively civil to me now.”
Gwen had to grin. “I find that hard to believe. Remember when we’d play Camelot, and you to what gets to scraping over just about everything? I never saw my prim and proper cousin gets so riled by anyone as by you. I declare, there were times I feared she’d pull the hair right out of your head.”
“And you were there to instigate every altercation.”
It was so patently untrue, when turned to gape at him. “I hated your fighting,” she said, hurts that say such a thing. “Why would I do anything start it up?”
“Whoa, now don’t be getting upset with me.” Lance held up his hands and mock surrender. “I was merely teasing. I do love to see the color rise in your cheeks.”
“As I recall, you’re over fond of that past time, Lance. Indeed, I’ll wager it was your incessant teasing that upsets Edith. I had my own times when I’d happily have pulled out your hair.”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He smiled in his special way, reminding her she could never stay mad at him long. “Besides,” he went on, “that’s all in the past. Edith and I have sworn to forget our differences and do our but most to make your home coming special.”
Gwen felt warm, for here was the welcome she’d expected. The hideous voyage and the fiasco at the docks were swiftly fading into the realm of nightmare. Trust Lance to make everything turn out all right.
“I must say,” he said on a sigh, “I’ve been a bit worried about daddy’s greeting, but if he’s gone into such trouble to welcome me home, then surely he’s forgotten what… What happened.” Even with Lance, she cannot bring herself to talk of her mother’s death.
“Oh, actually, John won’t be joining us,” he said.
The warmth went instantly cold. “He won’t?”
Lance patted her hands. “Now, before you get to imagine the worst, let me repeat that nothing is wrong you got to understand there’s, well, things keeping him busy back at the Willows.”
Daddy and is damn sugarcane. Ever since Gwen could remember, his precious plantation had come first. Before his only child. Even before his wife.
“No long faces,” Lance chided gently. “Look here we ought.”
The carriage stopped before grilled iron gateway guarding the McCloud townhouse. Unlike the more practical neighboring homes, lined up close to the street, their red brick residence sat back behind and entrance courtyard, hidden by a wall of bougainvillea surrounding the y
ard. Amid all the iron and stone of the city, it seemed an oasis. Stepping inside the gate to be instantly surrounded by flowers and vines and a cool flowing fountain, was like stepping into a different world.
Her parents had chosen a french quarter dwelling rather than building a new were mansion across now Street, like other Americans who settled in New Orleans. It had been largely mothers doing, for Amanda had adored all things French, and open admiration that one her the acceptance of even in the most exclusive Creole families. Everyone had loved her mama, when thought with a sigh.
Stepping down from the carriage, Lance offered a hand to help her. “Don’t you fret funny, you’re going to enjoy the exciting time we have planned for you.”
She shook her head. “Knowing my uncle, plans will include a visit with half the city’s population.”
“Not so.” Lance helped her down to the streets. “This afternoon, you’ll be resting, and then tonight, we’re all off to the Fosters’, for their last of the summer ball.”
Gwen tried not to crown. Four years, Emily Foster had been trying to match her with her overweight son, Charlie. It was hard to resist the lure of a party, though especially one that included dancing.
“They mean to make certain this is the event of the year. I swear, if I have to listen to Edith describe once more what she means to wear…”
Poor Edith, Gwen thought, for nothing could disguise her bony limbs and painfully plain face. Though perhaps when could lend her the pretty blue silk and Agatha had…
Reminded suddenly of her own wardrobe, Gwen grasped lances sleeve. “Lance, quickly we must go back at once.”
“Back where?”
“The dock. Those dreadful children distracting me so, I’d left my bag behind.”
“No need to panic. I will simply send one over the-“
“It’s not just my bag. It’s all of them. Virtually everything I own is in them. My gowns, my bonnets, and my jewelry.” With a bang, she thought of mother’s locket, tucked in her bag. If she lost its, she’d have nothing left of her mother.
The Willows Page 2