Wild legacy

by Conn, Phoebe

  but the ploy failed miserably. She could still taste Sean's kiss, and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "I wish Hunter had had three sons," she said, "so that I might have fallen in love with a cousin, too."

  Dominique had such expensive tastes, Belle could not picture her with Christian, Falcon, or any brother the braves might have had. She was simply too elegant for the likes of such overtly masculine men. "You've never been lonely, and I've always envied you the ease with which you chat with men."

  "Well, you needn't anymore. It was all a sham. I played at love, and now I'm being severely punished for it. I really do want to go to sleep. I'm so tired, Belle, and there will be no reason to get up in the morning. Are you going to Falcon's room to sleep?"

  "Do you think I dare?"

  Dominique's smile was sad and sweet. "How can you stay away?"

  Belle rose and kissed her sister's damp cheek. "You're right, of course. I don't even want to. Falcon says I'm already his wife, but somehow I don't believe Mother and Father will accept a Seneca custom as fact."

  "Then make them accept it, but don't waste a minute that you could be with him."

  Because Dominique had learned just how quickly love could end, Belle accepted her advice and went to find Falcon rather than spend a lonely night in her own bed.

  Arielle was the only one who truly understood Dominique's despair, and she did not attempt to coax or cajole her daughter from her bed. Having lost her first husband in an Indian raid, she appreciated the grief Dominique could not hide and knew it would pass in its own time. She brought bouquets of fresh flowers to decorate the pretty pink room, brewed soothing herbal teas, and baked tempting

  pastries laced with chopped pecans. She spent hours at the windowseat with her embroidery, and offered sympathetic comments whenever Dominique cared to speak.

  Arielle would have much preferred that Dominique get angry, scream, and break whatever she chose, but Dominique simply slept and withdrew into her pain. When Falcon came to her room three days after her arrival home, Arielle at first did not want to admit him. "Dominique really doesn't feel up to having visitors," she explained, but Falcon looked past his aunt and called to his cousin.

  "I'm not a visitor, am I, Dominique? I've something for you, and I want you to know what's happened. Aren't you curious?"

  Dominique had been sitting up in bed with an unopened volume of Shakespeare's sonnets clasped tightly in her hands. She glanced toward him, but her eyes were blank, without any sparkle of interest. "Is it anything I truly want to hear?" she asked.

  "Yes. I think so." When Dominique nodded, Arielle swung open the door and Falcon strode into the room. He was wearing a new set of buckskins with long, flowing fringe but strangely, did not look out of place in the feminine room.

  "Joshua Tuttle passed along your message and nearly two hundred British troops and Loyalist militia marched on Petersburg. We hid in the trees lining the road and surprised them several miles out of town. I don't know which was the most enjoyable, their shocked expressions when we stood and began to fire into their ranks, or the stark terror that lit their eyes when they realized they were surrounded and had no chance of escape.

  "We took only a few casualties ourselves, but inflicted heavy losses on them. I overheard more than one Englishman whisper Tarleton's name in dread, but I've never cared for the smell of blood, and the day I serve with a force that will bayonet prisoners is the day I'll gladly slit my own

  throat. Sean O'Keefe wasn't there, but because he was definitely a part of it, he's been taken prisoner.

  "He had no proof he'd resigned his commission, which I've never believed he actually did anyway. Because he's been living among us in plain clothes, there were some of the Patriot forces who wanted to hang him as a spy. He has more courage than most, for he didn't beg and plead for his life while we argued his fate. He seemed almost resigned to it, but out of regard for you, I convinced everyone he belonged in a camp with the other prisoners and that's where he's bound. I brought your mare home. He'd taken good care of her."

  Knowing Falcon was surely sparing her the ugliest details, Dominique shuddered at how close Sean had undoubtedly come to being hanged. "You lied to me," she replied coldly. "You told me you were merely testing Sean's loyalties but you'd already planned an ambush when you gave me the message about Petersburg. I'd never have passed it along if I'd known it would endanger his life. You knew that, too, didn't you?"

  Falcon had to concede the point. "I'm sorry for that, Dominique, and it won't happen again." He came closer and held out his hand. "I have something for you."

  Dominique shrank away. "I doubt it's anything I want."

  "Take it anyway," Falcon encouraged her, and when, after a lengthy pause, she opened her hand, he dropped a lock of dark brown hair tied with a bit of thread into her palm. "Sean said he was sorry he had nothing more to send you. He begged me to tell you that you are the only woman he has ever loved. He said he hoped that you'd keep his letter and remember him as fondly as he'll always remember you."

  Dominique looked away as she began to cry. Sean had finally spoken of love—when it was too late. It was more than she could bear. She felt certain he had come to Wil-

  liamsburg to spy, and therefore did deserve to hang, but she could not have borne that.

  "Will you see him again?" she asked.

  "I will if you want to send him something. I owe you that."

  "Yes. You most certainly do. May I borrow your scissors, Mama?"

  Arielle brought the delicate pair of embroidery scissors to her, but Dominique's hands were shaking so badly she had to cut a curl for her. She tied it with blue embroidery floss and handed it to Falcon. "Is there anything else, cherie?"

  Dominique shook her head. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks and blurred her vision, but she held the lock of Sean's hair all afternoon, then tucked it away with the only love letter he would ever write to her. She knew he would be harshly treated as a prisoner, but having survived being shot, she felt confident he would live until the end of the war. In a way, it was a relief to know he was no longer at the Scotts', but she still felt dead inside and didn't leave her room until the next afternoon when she heard a commotion downstairs.

  She stood at the top of the stairs and peered down into the hallway two floors below. She recognized her elder brother's voice as he greeted their parents, and forgetting her own sorrow, raced down the stairs to see him. The fact that she was clad in a nightgown at three in the afternoon didn't concern her until she burst into the parlor and found Beau was not alone. By then it was too late to don more appropriate garb.

  "Dominique!" Beau cried as he saw her. He swept her up into his arms and turned in an ecstatic whirl. "I've missed you," he swore as he placed her back on her bare feet, but when he stepped back, he surveyed her with growing alarm. "Have you been ill?"

  Dominique looked past him to a handsome young man

  with thick black curls and bright green eyes who was observing her with open dismay. "Yes," she said quickly, and turned back toward the door. "But I wanted to welcome you home."

  "Wait, don't go. I want you to meet Etienne LeBlanc. I've told him your French is as perfect as Mother's. Won't you at least tell him hello."

  "Bonjour, monsieur," Dominique offered with a small curtsy, and fled.

  Beau shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, Etienne. She truly is the most enchanting creature ever born, but clearly she wasn't at her best."

  "She has lovely blond hair," the Frenchman commented, at a loss for anything more complimentary. He had doubted Dominique could actually be as lovely as Beau had described, but he hadn't had time to notice anything other than an unruly mass of fair curls and a wrinkled gown before she had hurried from the room. That she had not wanted to see more of him left him badly disappointed. In the next minute he was introduced to Belle and Falcon, and while he had been warned the Barclay household was a diverse one, he was amazed to find the Indian brave's English was as good as Beau's. He th
ought Belle was exceptionally pretty, and said so.

  While Belle blushed, Falcon took her hand. "Belle is taken, but we'll all thank you if you can make Dominique smile again."

  "When has she ever stopped smiling?" Beau asked.

  "That's a very long story," Arielle informed him, "and not one I ought to repeat here." A gracious hostess, she made Etienne feel at home and encouraged him to remain with them for supper but he bore such a striking resemblance to a man she had once known that she could not let it pass without comment.

  "LeBlanc is a common name—and there was a family of LeBlancs in my hometown, Grand Pre, in Acadia. Where

  was your father born?" She felt her husband watching her and knew Etienne's answer was important to Byron as well.

  "He is also from Acadia, madame, but I do not know where, as he never speaks of his youth. Our family resides in LeHavre, and he is too content to discuss the past. He did not object when I wanted to come to America to fight the British, however, as he damns them to this day for forcing him to leave Acadia."

  "As well he should," Byron agreed. "What is his name?"

  "Gaetan." Etienne saw a strained look pass between Byron and his wife, and inquired why. "Is it possible that you knew him in Grand Pre?"

  "It's possible," Arielle responded, "but as I said, LeBlanc is a common name. What about your mother? Is she Acadian, too?"

  "No. She is from Rouen. Her name is Anne-Marie."

  "How lovely. That was my mother's name," Arielle said. "How long can you stay?" she asked her son.

  "Only one day, while we take on supplies. Anything more is too dangerous. Will you come with me this time, Jean?"

  "I'm no sailor," the young man scoffed.

  Beau feigned a punch to Jean's shoulder, then hugged his brother. "Good. Then you'll give me no competition for the job of captain of the Virginia Belle. Come down to the ship with me now. I've presents for everyone and you can help carry them."

  "Don't you mean booty?" Jean asked, but he followed Beau and Etienne out of the parlor.

  Arielle sat back in her chair and sighed deeply. "Can Etienne's arrival here be no more than coincidence, Byron?"

  "You did know his father then?" Belle inquired.

  Arielle thought of Dominique all alone in her room. Etienne might be precisely what her melancholy daughter required to recapture her zest for life, but he could just as

  easily be a worse companion than Sean O'Keefe. "If I did, it was a very long time ago," she explained absently.

  "The man tried to kill me," Byron announced with clear disgust. He moved to his wife's side and caressed her shoulder.

  "Oh no!" Belle cried.

  Not alarmed, Falcon squeezed her hand. "Obviously, he didn't succeed."

  "No, thank God, he didn't," Byron concurred. "But Etienne looks so much like Gaetan, I would have recognized him as his son anywhere. Well, he will soon be gone, so let's not mention the matter again."

  Arielle nodded, but she still felt uneasy. The past had a strange way of resurfacing at the most peculiar times, but Etienne had been so respectful and polite she hated to blame him for his father's jealousies. "He seemed to be a very nice young man."

  Belle caught the deeper meaning in her mother's comment. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked her mother.

  "Perhaps. But it is really too soon for Dominique to take an interest in another man."

  Falcon laughed out loud at that opinion. "Surely she has wrung the last tear from her tragic encounter with Sean. I'll bet money that she'll join us for supper tonight, and treat our guest with so much charm he won't be able to tell us what he ate."

  "Her sorrow has been sincere," Belle argued. "You can't believe that it wasn't."

  Falcon started for the door. "Who's to say with Dominique? I'll see what help Beau needs with the presents. Why don't you help your sister get dressed?"

  "No. I'm coming with you." Belle caught Falcon's hand as they passed through the doorway, and continued to argue her sister's cause.

  Byron drew his wife to her feet and kissed her soundly.

  "Do you remember the first time we made love in Acadia? You'd gone to gather herbs after church, and I followed."

  Some memories would always remain vivid, and Arielle smiled seductively as she slid her arms around his waist. "How could I ever forget? It was when Beau was conceived."

  Byron hugged her more tightly. "Is that the only reason you recall that blissful afternoon?"

  Arielle reached up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Come upstairs with me before supper, and I'll show you precisely what I recall."

  Eagerly accepting her invitation, Byron laughed and scooped her up in his arms. He marveled that his slender bride of more than twenty years enchanted him still, and carried her up to their room to refresh their memories before they had to resume their roles as responsible parents at supper.

  Alone in her room, Dominique sat at her windowseat and looked down toward the James River. Beau would not leave the beautiful Virginia Belle tied up at their docks for more than a day or two; and then he would go back to sea to continue confounding the trade of British merchantmen. How she wished she could sail with him! He would never agree to having a woman on board, nor would her parents allow her to accompany him, but it was a tempting thought.

  She watched Beau and Etienne talking on the dock. The sun shone on the Frenchman's thick curls with the same ebony fire that caught Falcon's, but she drew no parallels between the two young men. There had been a time when such an attractive guest would have delighted her, but no more. Now she saw only a man like any other, and he caused not a ripple in the lake of sorrow that still threatened to drown her.

  a teasing exchange between Falcon and Belle, and at last recalled that Alanna had told him to sleep at Christian's home on his last visit. He had left rather than do so, and in the excitement of having Belle and Dominique home, the order had been forgotten. Of course, he and Belle were engaged now, but in her mind that fact had merely magnified, rather than solved, the original problem.

  "What is the matter with Dominique?" Beau asked, abruptly interrupting his mother's train of thought.

  Because Etienne would overhear whatever she said, Arielle simply shook her head, but at the close of the meal, Beau drew her aside when the others left for the parlor. Arielle recounted Belle and Dominique's adventure very briefly, but she could see just how badly she had shocked her elder son. "It is absurd, is it not?" she asked. "The one time Dominique truly fell in love, it was with a man she could not have. I imagine he is as heartbroken as she, but fortunately we do not also have to listen to him weep."

  Having his little sisters run away astounded Beau, but Dominique in a romance with Sean O'Keefe was unimaginable. "I can't believe any of this actually happened," he complained, "and don't know what to make of it. I really thought Dominique would like Etienne, but she wouldn't even talk to him."

  Arielle did not wish to encourage her son's matchmaking, but recalled when Byron had first come to Grand Pre, she had not wanted to speak with him, either. "It's best not to meddle in affairs of the heart. Now, what about you? Will you have time to call on any of the lovely young women here in Williamsburg?"

  Beau had a quick answer for her. "No." He looked very much like his father had at his age, and with his fair hair and blue eyes women always regarded him as remarkably handsome, but his life was far too dangerous at present to permit him to court a sweetheart. "Wait until after the war," he promised his mother, "and then I'll call on them all."

  "Yes. I imagine you will." They entered the parlor arm in arm, and for an hour or two at least, the war was forgotten in fond memories of home. Beau intended to sleep on board his ship, but before leaving the house, he went upstairs to visit Dominique. He rapped lightly at her door and waited for an invitation to enter.

  "I brought you a bottle of perfume," he exclaimed as he approached the bed. "It's the perfect scent for you: all heat and spice."

  Intrigued, Dominique l
ay the sonnets she had yet to read aside, took the elegant crystal bottle, and removed the stopper. "Yes," she agreed. "This is delicious." She set the bottle aside on the nightstand without applying any, however.

  Beau sat down on the side of her bed. "You look awful."

  "I suppose I do, but I really don't care."

  "Well, you should. I finally found you a handsome Frenchman, and I'm afraid you simply frightened him by appearing in your nightgown in the middle of the afternoon."

  Dominique shrugged. "I don't care about that, either."

  Beau reached out to smooth her tangled curls from her brow. "You're all freckled," he complained, "and your skin was as luscious as cream. What's gotten into you? How could you have run off, or come home with a British officer? Have you lost what little sense you had?"

  Dominique batted his hand away. "You go wherever you choose and come home whenever you please with whatever companions suit you, so you've no reason to criticize me. Besides, did you really expect everything to always be the same here?"

  "Yes! And it is, except for you." He thought a minute, and then mentioned Belle and Falcon. "I always thought they'd wed, but you, you need someone very special."

  "I found someone special," she breathed softly.

  She was so thin her eyes appeared enormous, and Beau had never noticed the extraordinary length of her eyelashes.

  She had always been such a provocative young woman, and he didn't know what to make of the subdued soul sitting in his sister's bed. "I've missed you, Dominique."

  "Thank you. I've missed you, too."

  "Good. Then you'll do me a favor." Beau glanced around the petal pink room, and smiled slightly. "It's been months since Etienne has even spoken to a girl. He's rather shy, but if you could just talk with him a minute, it would make him feel welcome here."

  Beau was dressed in dark blue with a white shirt and gray vest. He preferred simple styles in fine fabrics as did their father, but wore boots rather than shoes. "You look very much the proper gentleman," she scolded, "so surely you know I ought not to entertain callers here in my bedroom."