Day Dreamer

by Jill Marie Landis

“Preposterous.”

  “I agree with Cordero,” Wells said, and then beamed at Ada.

  Cord startled Celine by asking, “What do you think? Am I mad to turn loose of so many assets?”

  “No.” She smiled over at him, and although it was not returned, she felt as if their animosity had been set aside for the moment. “In fact, I believe this is one of the few times since I laid eyes on you that I think you are perfectly sane.”

  By the time the meal ended, dusk had gathered and torches were lit around the perimeter of the house. Ada suggested she show Howard Wells the collection of books in the library. Uncomfortable without their diversionary conversation, Celine excused herself early, leaving Cord and Collin Ray to argue over brandy and cigars. She slipped out to the kitchen, where she found Foster and Edward helping to clean up the remains of the feast. Gunnie was up to her elbows in soapsuds.

  “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” Celine told the men. “I know most of it was your doing.”

  “Miss Ada ’as some wonderful recipes.” Foster handed Edward a dry platter and the shorter man bent to place it carefully in a cabinet.

  When Edward straightened he said, “It looks to be a beautiful sunset. Good time for a romantic stroll in the garden. I can go get Cordero and—”

  “He is busy with Mr. Ray.” She was certain a romantic stroll in the garden with her was the last thing on Cordero’s mind.

  On her way out the door, Celine paused to thank Gunnie for dinner, but the woman did not acknowledge her compliment. Celine slipped out the back door and crossed the veranda. She made her way along the overgrown garden path to a terrace that had once provided a panoramic vista of the sea. A stone bench near the far edge of the terrace beckoned. What it lacked in comfort it made up for with a view of the spectacular sunset.

  A sense of peace and belonging imbued her as she sat with her hands folded in her lap. She looked around, wondering if perhaps Alyce’s spirit might be with her now, hovering protectively in her garden, enjoying the sunset and the coming of night. She watched the sky change from subtle peach to a brilliant orange and yellow.

  If Cord didn’t forget to spare a few laborers for the task as he had promised, the garden would soon be returned to its former splendor. And Celine was not adverse to rolling up her own sleeves to help.

  The blissful moment fled instantly as Celine felt a cold chill of warning settle over her like a damp cloak. The sensation was strong enough to prompt her to turn and gaze over her shoulder. When she saw a man silhouetted against the deep green foliage, she started to smile, thinking it might be Cordero—until he stepped out of the shadows. It was Collin Ray.

  She immediately quit the bench, intent upon escaping into the house, but Ray was far swifter than she imagined. He quickly crossed the terrace, effectively blocking her way. When he stepped in front of her, she could not help but be reminded of Jean Perot and the way he had cornered her. She began to shiver uncontrollably.

  “Are you cold or merely excited?” Ray asked, a smile of smug satisfaction on his face.

  “Let me pass. I’m needed inside.”

  “You’re needed right here.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said, stalling, trying to edge around him.

  “I’m sure you do. You recall our little meeting on the docks …”

  “You make it sound like an assignation when it was absolutely nothing of the sort.” She tried to sweep by him, lifted her skirt so that the fabric would not even touch him as she passed by.

  He grabbed her arm above the elbow.

  “Are you ready to accept my offer of protection?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m married …”

  “To a man who did not glance your way more than once at dinner. Surely you can’t wish to remain here. The place is in a shambles. That old woman is senile. Moreau allows the presence of a witch doctor, who feels challenged by you, thanks to those idiotic rumors. Your life is in danger, Celine.”

  “It is not. You said yourself obeah magic is a farce. Dunstain Place is not the way you make it out to be, either. With very little effort, Cord will be able to make this place what it was before.”

  He pulled her closer. She winced at the pain and tossed back her head to glare up at him.

  “Let me go.” She struggled to get away from him.

  He leaned close. She could smell the sour scent of onions and cigars on his breath. His ice blue eyes were cunning, full of greed and avarice.

  “Do you know where your husband spent the night while he left you in Baytowne’s worst excuse for an inn?”

  “No, and I don’t care.” She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear her suspicions confirmed.

  “He was at Madam Felicity’s, the most notorious whorehouse in the West Indies.”

  Ray’s eyes roamed over her, the heat behind his gaze so intense she could feel it sear her breasts, her lips, her throat. She tried to break free.

  “You are far too beautiful to waste away hidden up here with a husband who barely gives you the time of day. My offer of protection still stands.”

  “What makes you think my wife needs protection, Ray?”

  Celine whirled around and found Cord crossing the veranda. Behind him, Foster and Edward hovered in the shadows. She blessed them for their meddling.

  Cord was furious at what he had just witnessed. When he’d first come upon them, he’d been ready to blame Celine for tempting Ray under his very nose, but then he’d heard enough to know different and had seen Celine flinch away from Collin Ray in disgust. Now, as Cord strode across the paved terrace, his boot heels rang sharply against the stones.

  “I could call you out for this, Ray.”

  Cord stepped up beside Celine. He gently took her arm and began rubbing his thumb over the place where Collin Ray’s grip had surely left bruises. Although her show of confidence had been intended to belie her fear, he was not surprised to find her trembling.

  Collin Ray straightened the lace on his cuffs. “I’ve merely made your beautiful wife a better offer.”

  “As your whore?”

  “Face it. You won’t deal well here, Moreau. You’re just like your father. He ran with the underbelly of island society. No one will forget that.”

  “What do I care for your society? I’m not English, nor do I pretend to be like the rest of you island colonials who were born here and still refer to England as ‘home.’ I can take care of my wife, Ray, without help from you. Now, get out before I have to throw you out. Don’t ever come near my wife again or I’ll have to kill you. I won’t warn you again.”

  “I only thought to offer myself to her because you obviously don’t appreciate her, Moreau. I’ll be happy to leave.” Collin Ray made a formal bow to Celine. “Good night, madam.”

  Thankful for Cord’s hand riding her waist, Celine did not acknowledge Ray’s departure. As soon as the man was out of the garden, she buried her face against Cord’s shirtfront.

  Uncertain, Cord stared down at her dark hair. Her cheek was pressed against his heart. Surprisingly, it pleased him to find she would turn to him for comfort. He slowly raised his hand and began to stroke her hair.

  “I’m not afraid of much,” she said softly, “but he frightens me.”

  “I’m not always very kind either, Celine, and yet you are not afraid of me.”

  “But you are not evil.” She knew that whenever Cord was cold or hard, when his anger surfaced or he seemed indifferent, it was only because he so closely guarded any deeper, softer emotion.

  Finally she felt composed enough to step away from him. Cord walked to the edge of the terrace to watch the sky purple and the stars take their places on the night’s empty stage. He tried to blot out the sight of Ray’s hands on her.

  “Our marriage was a business agreement, not much different from the one Ray has offered you …”

  “I am no whore.”

  “I know that,” he said without hesitation.

  Celine tried to
fight back the tears stinging her eyes.

  There came a slight breeze, a very faint lifting of leaves atop the hibiscus that had once been a neat hedge but was now a solid green, massive wall of leggy stems. The gentle breeze carried the scent of frangipani, and with it the feeling of peace and contentment she had known earlier. A sensation of calm settled over her.

  Cord turned around and found her watching him closely. The juxtaposition of her innate stubbornness and her petite stature and vulnerability was alluring. What would she have done if Foster had not sent him out to join her? How long could she have held Ray off?

  For the first time in his life, he felt the weight of being entirely responsible for someone else. And now, not only was there Celine to consider, but Ada and all of the others at Dunstain Place. Somehow he had become entangled in a tightly woven tapestry of emotional threads.

  Cord sighed and, giving in to the unfamiliar need to protect, walked across the terrace to Celine.

  “Don’t worry about Ray. We’re isolated from him and his kind up here. We don’t need them,” he said.

  “You aren’t invulnerable here, Cord. A snake often strikes without warning.” They had made an enemy of a powerful man. She knew that nothing good could come of it.

  “Did you read something sinister in his thoughts, Celine? I’m beginning to see where your odd talent may have its advantages.”

  “Persa always said there is no value in reading the past. I couldn’t have discerned anything about Collin Ray’s intentions even if I had wanted.”

  He stepped closer, drawn by a radiant loveliness in her that shone bright, even in the gathering twilight. As uncertain as he was about her promise not to slip into his mind, she was fast becoming irresistible to him. It was all the more reason to resist her, and yet touching her, burying himself in her again was all he could think of. When she was in his arms he could close himself off from the rest of the world, from his past and his future. When he was inside her, there were only the two of them. They were an island in and of themselves.

  Collin Ray was less of a danger to him than were his own disturbing thoughts and intense longings. The last thing on earth he wanted was to put his battered heart into her keeping.

  “Don’t think about Ray,” he told her, and then on impulse stepped back, certain that if he so much as touched her hand, he would need to take her to bed.

  “It’s late,” he said, pausing on the low step before the veranda.

  “Good night, Cordero,” she whispered. Celine sensed his unease, read it in his stance, and looked away. The last hint of light had faded from the sky. The Milky Way was spattered across the inky blackness. When she turned to walk back to the veranda, Cord was gone.

  The next morning, Celine experienced a wave of melancholy. Annoyed at her feelings, she again reminded herself that theirs was not a love match. And yet, when she allowed herself to remember their lovemaking, she could not help but wonder …

  She dressed quickly and hurried downstairs, where she found Ada and Howard Wells just finishing breakfast.

  “I’m sorry I overslept,” she told them before she went to the sideboard, where a tray of sautéed fish barely tempted her. She had tossed and turned for hours thinking about the future, about Cordero and whether she was insane in wanting to try to teach him to tear down his defenses.

  “Why, that’s quite all right, my dear. Cordero told us earlier not to expect you anytime soon.” Ada bestowed a misguided wink that made Celine blush and look away. “He said to tell you that there are three men at your disposal. They’ve already begun trimming the hedges around the terrace. Alyce is so pleased,” she added before popping a spoonful of papaw into her mouth.

  Celine sat down beside Howard Wells.

  “I’m happy to see you didn’t leave with Mr. Ray,” she told him.

  “Actually, I didn’t even have the opportunity. He left quite suddenly, I hear.” Howard turned to Ada, who blushed profusely for no apparent reason, then began folding and refolding her linen napkin.

  “I’ve decided to accept Miss Dunstain’s kind invitation to stay a few days and catalogue the library. I hope you don’t mind?” he said.

  Celine could not miss Ada’s hopeful expression.

  “I think that’s a fine idea,” she said. “If you find something you think I might like to read, please let me know.”

  “I’ll do that.” Mr. Wells’s smile creased the skin around his eyes.

  Celine ate a bit of the fish, which had been sautéed with peppers and scallions, but found it far too spicy. She left with a promise to Ada that she would not work in the hot sun too long.

  After she had changed and was about to go out, Foster called out to her and quickly hurried to her side. Edward was not far behind.

  “Is there anything you need?” Foster asked.

  “Not at the moment. I’m on my way to the garden.” She wondered why he looked so pleased with himself.

  He cleared his throat, fidgeted with the buttons of his vest, then smoothed his hair away from his part.

  “Do you have something you wanted to tell me, Foster?” Celine asked.

  “I just wanted to tell you Cordero was out early, seein’ to business,” he said.

  “And you had to ’ave noticed ’ow well he sits a horse?” Edward put in.

  Celine knew what they were up to and tried not to smile.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Swims like a fish,” Edward added.

  “That he does,” Celine agreed.

  “Protected your honor last night when that man tried to accost you,” Foster reminded her.

  “We told you there was more to ’im than met the eye,” Edward said.

  “Told you ’e weren’t as bad as ’e seemed,” Foster added.

  “He possesses many sterling qualities,” she agreed. She had to give them credit for a campaign well fought.

  Edward cleared his throat. “Did you notice he barely had anything to drink last night at dinner?”

  “Or after.” Foster was watching her closely. The man was practically gloating. “Might I be right in thinking you’ve a soft place in your ’eart for ’im despite ’is faults?” he asked.

  Edward looked about to burst with curiosity.

  Celine smiled at both of them.

  “Let’s just say my husband and I have come to an understanding since we arrived here. We’re taking things one day at a time.”

  Edward clasped his hands over his heart and sighed.

  “That’s all any of us can ask for, ain’t it?” Foster said. “One day at a time.”

  Sixteen

  Hours later Celine found herself thankful she had changed into an old gown that Foster had declared fit only for the rag bag. Her hands were filthy, her hair was in mad disarray, her face was streaked with dirt and sweat. As much as she had tried to maintain a proper demeanor as mistress of a plantation and to simply supervise the men Cord had left at her disposal, she had not been able to resist pulling weeds or slashing at the hedges with a long, lethal cane knife she had commandeered.

  The air was thick with humidity. The sky was dense with clouds that had backed up over the island, a sure sign that it would not be long before the late-afternoon rains began. Hot and tired, she dismissed the slaves and sent them back to the village. Wiping her brow with the back of her arm, she started up the path that wound through the garden. She pulled up her hem and dabbed at the moisture at her throat and between her breasts.

  Monkeys jabbered in the trees overhead, scolding her for intruding in their domain. Parrots joined in the clatter, their iridescent lime feathers making them nearly invisible against the backdrop of the forest. The air was heavy with the sweet scent of fallen guava. In short the tropical sanctuary was an enchanted world alive with sound and color.

  Celine dropped her hem into place and straightened when she thought she saw Cord step through an opening in the trees. She waved and he waved back, but as he moved closer, she realized he was not Cord, but an equ
ally handsome older version of her husband with raven black hair and a leather patch over his right eye.

  The man was nearly as tall as Cord and moved with the same easy, confident stride. Nothing in his expression or manner caused her the prickly sense of alarm she had felt when she’d first laid eyes on Collin Ray, so she continued toward him.

  Before she could speak, he took her hand and kissed it while performing a formal, courtly bow.

  “I had heard Cordero returned with a beautiful new bride. I’m pleased to find the reports are true,” he said.

  His brilliant, open smile was charming, exactly what Cord’s might have been, she mused, if his heart were free of its burdens. This man’s manner was so disarming that she couldn’t help but smile back.

  “You are far more than beautiful. Exquisite is the word I would choose. You are Celine?”

  “Yes. I’m Celine.” She apologized for her filthy gown as she tried and failed to give some semblance of order to her snarled hair.

  “You are Auguste Moreau,” she said. There was no one else this man could be, unless Cord had failed to mention he had a handsome older brother.

  “How did you surmise that, my dear, when all the world thinks me dead? You don’t seem at all surprised to see a ghost standing here before you.”

  She cocked her head and studied him carefully.

  “You are no more a ghost than I am. Where did you come from?”

  “Off a ship anchored in a cove on the small plantation bordering this one. You might say the owner of the land is a close personal friend who welcomes my infrequent visits to the island. How do you know me?”

  “I would know you anywhere. My husband is the exact image of you, except that he is taller and his eyes are blue and unfortunately do not hold the same sparkle I see in yours.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because of the way his life has unfolded since you sent him away.”

  He appeared surprised that she would so boldly discuss Cordero’s disposition with a virtual stranger.

  “I did what I thought best at the time.”

  “For him, or for you, monsieur?” She watched the laughter in his eyes dim.