He can’t stay here.
There was really no reason on earth why he had to go back to Heron Pond any time soon. Since the accident, his days had passed without incident, virtually the same morning, noon, and night, until he found Olivia and she turned his neatly ordered world upside down.
“You need a smokehouse,” Noah told Payson. “For the meat.”
The man appeared startled, as if his thoughts had already wandered elsewhere.
“Well, yes, I do. I just haven’t gotten around to building one yet.”
“I’d have to build it to smoke and store the meat.”
Payson sat up straighter, his face suddenly as animated as it had been when he first saw Olivia. His eyes lit up.
“Are you saying you’ll stay?”
“Noah, you can’t,” Olivia said, quickly stepping away from her father. “I know how much you want to get home. Especially after the reception you got in town today.”
“What happened in town today?” Payson asked.
Both Olivia and Noah ignored his question. The thought of his residing with them apparently terrified her.
“You can’t stay here,” she said again.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“You mean you would actually consider it?” Payson was on his feet. Noah thought the man was going to jump up and down with joy.
“I have. I’ll stay long enough to build you a smokehouse and put in enough provisions to see you through the winter.”
Payson rounded the end of the table, thanking Noah for his good heart, for his kindness. He even began to pound him on the back.
As Noah sat there wondering what had come over him, he tried to dismiss Payson’s overwhelming gratitude with a shrug. He was more concerned with Olivia, with the look of distress on her face. He waited for her to continue to object. Instead, she turned on her heel and ran out the door.
• • •
Olivia was afraid to walk too far away from the cabin and the light that issued from the window, so she paced the open field not far away. When more light streamed from the cabin, she knew someone had opened the door and stepped outside, but she did not turn around. If it was her father, he would have questions. If it was Noah, she would have to face the riot of emotion roiling inside her. She wasn’t ready for either.
When someone walked up behind her, she knew without looking that it was Noah, for he moved as silently as the light breeze that set the fringe around the hem of her gown whispering.
Besides, her father would have spoken by now, but not Noah. Noah would be content to stand there until she acknowledged him, no matter how long that might take. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rubbed her hands up and down, ignoring the bright stars tangled across the sky, the scent of fertile soil still warm from the day’s sunshine. Ignoring Noah for as long as she dared.
If he stayed, how could she trust herself around him day in and day out? It was growing impossible not to seek him out with her eyes. Yesterday as they crossed the open Illinois landscape, walking through woods and fields, meadows and hills together, she found herself wishing that she could be the woman he thought she was, that she could be everything that Noah deserved and more. Last night when they had bedded down on the trail, she thought it would be their last night together. The memories of what they had shared in his cabin, the way his hands had felt on her skin, the way he had made her body sing, were still too raw and new. Even her homecoming had been made bittersweet, knowing that once she and Noah parted, more than likely they would never cross paths again.
“Even if you stay, Noah, I can never be what you want me to be.”
Without turning around, she sensed him when he stepped closer. She was tempted to lean back against him, to have him enfold her in his strong arms.
“My mother used to claim that she knew what the future would bring.” His voice was melodic, lyrical, almost as if he were telling her a story about someone else’s life. “That was why she preferred to live away from others and why she moved with my father and never went back. She said it hurt her too much to know what was going to befall her family, her friends, her people. She heard voices in the wind, voices that warned her of the white settlers moving in and that the Cherokee would become fewer and fewer until they disappeared. Do you have such a talent, Olivia, to see the future?”
“No.” Olivia shook her head. If she had, she would never have let her father move across the Ohio, never been Darcy’s captive. But then she would never have met the man standing behind her now.
“I am staying because your father asked, because he cannot put meat on your table and I can.”
She wished she could believe that was the only reason he was still here, but she suspected it was really because of what had happened between them three nights ago. She wished with all her heart that she was free to love him, that she could be the good and perfect woman he deserved.
“Olivia, turn around.”
Even as she shook her head no, to refuse, she turned to him.
“Tell me that you want me to leave and I will.”
“You know that I can’t do that. My father needs your help. You saw the boys. They are nearly starving. I am not that cruel, Noah. I can’t tell you to leave knowing that they will all suffer for it.”
He put his hand beneath her chin and tilted her head until she was forced to look up at him.
“When you first came to me, I would not have wanted you to look so closely at my face. Now I want that and more. I want you to look at me so I can see your eyes when you tell me that you don’t ever want me again.”
“Don’t make me do this, Noah.”
“Because you can’t.”
“If you agreed to stay because you think that you can buy time to persuade me to go back with you, you should know right now that’s not going to happen. But I won’t send you away, because my family will suffer.”
“You can’t send me away because you still want me.”
“No.” She shook her head, trying to deny it.
“Don’t lie, Olivia. I have seen the truth in your eyes when you thought I was not looking.”
She tried to turn away but he would not let her. “Don’t do this to me, Noah.”
He let go of her chin. Before she could react, he pulled her into the circle of his embrace. “You are mine, Olivia. No matter what has gone before. Another man may haunt your nightmares, but he is your past and nothing but a bad dream. I’ll wait, Olivia, until you know what your body already knows so well—that you’re mine.”
She put her hands against his chest and tried to hold him off, but he was stronger, more determined than her weak will would ever be.
When he lowered his head, her breath caught in her throat. So did her words of protest, and they died there. His heart was beating fast and hard beneath her hands, like a river running wild and free. He drew her up against him until their lips met. His full mouth was not gentle, nor was it cruel. She knew no fear, only the same tearing anguish and confusion she had known after they made love. Clearly she wanted him, more now than before because this time she was not driven by a nightmare or its aftermath. Nor was she urged only by a need to feel secure in his arms.
No, this time she wanted Noah LeCroix, not some nameless, faceless dark angel hovering on the edge of her conscience. She was aware of every pulsing, beat of desire thrumming through her just as surely as she was convinced that giving in to that need again was wrong. Before Darcy had trained her so long and so well, she would not have known such need existed. She would not have been tempted to abandon all and give in to such longing.
Before her will failed entirely and her traitorous body persuaded her to give in again, she pulled back with such force that the kiss ended abruptly.
Between uneven breaths she cried softly. “Noah, please. Please let me go.”
He did not force her. As she knew he would, he let her go and suddenly stepped back. She felt as if she had been wrenched from his arms and stripped naked, so bereft
was she of his warmth. When his reaction finally came, his words cut through her as swift and sure as his sheathed knife might cut through a silken web.
“Have it your way then, Olivia. You don’t want me. You think yourself unworthy. I’ll stop trying to convince you otherwise.”
His words hung heavy on the air between them as she stood looking up at him, silhouetted against the night sky. The breeze lifted the ends of his uneven hair. Even though he had not bothered to turn the wounded side of his face away from her, his scar was invisible in the dark. He was so handsome. Tall and proud, more noble than she could ever hope to be. He turned and walked away without a word. She could not call him back. She could never let him know he had been right. She wanted him more than she wanted to take her next breath.
Chapter 10
New Orleans
Three Weeks Later
Decadence was not a derogatory word in Darcy Lankanal’s opinion. Like his mother before him, he made it a habit to surround himself with luxurious objects, beautiful people, and the finest in clothes, liquor, food, and wine. He never settled for less than the very best.
Stupid people annoyed him even more than ugly ones. So did unctuous ones, which is why for the life of him he did not know why he was sitting across the desk from Telford Betts, an ingratiating land agent with lily-white hands and a too-soft belly.
Ensconced in a wing chair in the room downstairs that served as both office and his private parlor, Darcy absently ran his fingers up and down the satin lapel of a formal cutaway jacket. Tonight he would be dining in one of the finest homes in the French Quarter, the guest of a Creole family of long standing in the city. He always liked to make an entrance, but if he tarried much longer, he would be more than fashionably late.
Telford’s arrival had been unscheduled. After the last time the man was here, Darcy had decided never to agree to meet with him again. Later tonight, when he found out which of his people had admitted Betts without coming to him first, heads would roll, for this bothersome individual was continually trying to convince him that he should diversify and acquire land outside Louisiana.
Just now though, Betts assured him, he had some news of the utmost interest.
“Why don’t you get to the point, Betts? I have a pressing engagement.”
“I think you’re going to like what I have to say, Mr. Lankanal. I think you are going to like it very much.”
“Talk.”
“I’ve been up to Illinois. Fastest-growing new state in the union. One hundred and sixty acres of land can be had for two dollars an acre. Folks are moving into Illinois from all over, but mostly from the South, so they see things our way politically, if you take my meaning.”
Darcy started to push himself up out of the chair. “Even so, I think I’ve made it more than abundantly clear that I’m not interested in investing in land, nor do I want to set up any kind of establishment unless the clientele is of a certain social standing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Betts, I’d like you to leave.” Darcy was sure he had made his wishes perfectly clear, but when Betts did not move, he decided he might have to call one of the bodyguards in the salon.
“Oh, I didn’t come here just to persuade you to buy land, although that’s always a part of it.” Betts chuckled. “No, sir. I came because of what I heard when I stepped off the keelboat an hour ago.”
The man looked so puffed up and sure of himself that Darcy was intrigued. “And what might that be?”
“That you have a reward out for information about that jade-eyed little whore I saw you with last time I was here.”
Betts’s words almost stopped Darcy’s heart.
“And?”
“I’ve seen her.”
Darcy’s hands went cold. He felt the blood rush out of his head, straight to his loins. Just when he had almost given up hope of ever laying eyes on Olivia again, she had been sighted. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. He turned his back on Betts, hating to give the man any satisfaction that he had brought him to such a show of weakness. He walked over to a bookshelf full of books he had never read, took down a leather-bound book with gilt binding, and studied it, feigning nonchalance.
Finally, he looked up at Betts again. “Where do you think you saw her?”
“I don’t think. I know. She was in Illinois.”
Illinois. If fate had not led Betts to that place, Darcy knew he never would have found Olivia. But she had been seen. That was all the proof he needed that she was meant to be his. Now it was just a matter of time.
“Who was she with?”
“Now that’s the interesting part.” Betts smiled and waited for a reaction.
“How so?” Darcy wanted to leap across the room, grab Betts by the throat and shake the story out of him. Instead, he tamped down his excitement, forced himself to stay calm.
“The man she’s hooked up with is some kind of a legend around those parts. A flatboat pilot.”
Olivia was with a man. Black rage threatened to blot out all else. The notion agitated Darcy even though it made sense. No woman, especially one as young and unsophisticated as Olivia, could have left New Orleans on her own.
“There was a crowd gathered in front of a tavern. I heard somebody singing and walked over to see what was going on. For a minute I didn’t recognize her because she was dressed like a squaw, so I didn’t pay her any mind. Then she looked up and I saw all that curly black hair and those unforgettable green eyes and knew I had seen her somewhere before. Then I remembered it was right here in this room.”
Dressed like a squaw. Darcy’s head pounded. Olivia was his exclusive property. No other man had laid eyes on her while she was here with him, at least not that he could recall, not even Betts. He thought back, trying to remember a meeting with the land agent when Olivia might have been present. The man had come around once trying to persuade him to invest in the newly opened territories. Darcy had been with Olivia in his suite when Betts was announced. Always looking for a good investment, Darcy agreed to meet the man. Olivia had surprised him by asking if she could accompany him downstairs. He recalled how, at the time, he had been pleased and tried to fool himself into thinking that she must have wanted to be with him. Lately she had been taking more of an interest in the Palace and the goings-on downstairs; since he was loath to leave her, he had taken her along.
That day she had said nothing, making herself unobtrusive by sitting in the corner with a book open on her lap the entire time he talked with Betts. After Betts walked out, Darcy took Olivia’s place in the wing chair, pulled her onto his lap, and eventually persuaded her to ride him where he sat.
Aroused and shaken by the now vivid memory, Darcy quickly sat down behind his desk. He ran a hand over his eyes and asked Betts, “Did she see you?”
“No. I was in the back of the crowd. I didn’t think much of it. I thought she had probably quit this place and somehow got tied up with the half-breed.”
“What half-breed?”
“The one she was with. The one with an eye patch. That’s part of the talk about him—how he sold his soul to the devil and lost an eye.” Betts looked pleased as punch as he dropped each bit of information.
It was worse than Darcy could have imagined. How in the hell had Olivia ended up with a half-breed? All kinds of scenarios entered his mind. She might have been captured while wandering the streets of New Orleans. After all, she had been taken once, by the river brigands who knew he was in the market for beautiful girls. All manner of men crowded the avenues and waterfront—immigrants, Creoles, soldiers, trappers, sailors, Indians, slaves, and slavers. With Olivia’s bad luck, she might have run into the worst of the lot.
His thoughts kept flashing to the day she had been with him here in the office. She had been so docile, so willing to do whatever he asked. He had shown her the entire first floor, had proudly taken her into the gaming hall, the kitchen, the private dining room where the other girls took their meals. Quite a few times afterward she had expressed an offhanded interest in the
place that he never questioned. Not too many weeks later, she disappeared.
Now her absorption with the inner workings of the Palace became perfectly clear. While he had been a fool to think that she was finally resigning herself to a life here, she had really been plotting her escape. Darcy stared down at his hands where they gripped the edge of the desk. His knuckles were white.
“So.” Telford Betts sighed. “How much money do I get for a reward?”
“When I find Olivia, I’ll give you your reward, Betts. Where exactly did you say she was? Indiana?”
If Betts had mentioned the name of the town, Darcy did not remember hearing it. All he could think of was Olivia, dressed like a squaw, wandering around with a one-eyed half-breed.
“Illinois. But I didn’t say where exactly.” Betts looked like a fat cat stuck in a pot of cream. “I’ll be more than happy to take you there.”
Darcy pushed away from the desk and stood up so fast that Betts flinched and paled. “Look, after I find her, I’ll pay you good money for the information.”
Darcy was surprised by the usually mild-mannered man’s temerity. “I stand to make a lot more if I lead you to her,” Betts told him. “That way I’ll also have a chance to show you some of that land which I can’t seem to interest you in any other way.”
Darcy splayed his hands palms down on the desk and leaned toward Betts. “I don’t give a good goddamn about any land up the Mississippi or any place else. Where is Olivia?”
“You ever stop to think she might not want to be found?”
“Did you ever stop to think what it would feel like to have your tongue ripped out of your throat?”
Betts stood, brushed off the front of his wool coat, picked up the tall hat he had propped on his knee, and cleared his throat.
“She looked perfectly happy with the man she was with. You may need help getting her back.”
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