Day Dreamer

by Jill Marie Landis

  “Cordero! What are you doing home from the fields so early?”

  “Would you like me to go back?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a long, slow kiss on his lips. It didn’t take much encouragement for him to kiss her back with gusto. Finally, out of breath, her heart racing, she pulled away.

  “You’re all dressed up. I’ve never even seen this jacket before.” She frowned. Life had been one long blissful reunion since they had left the nightmare of New Orleans behind and sailed home. “You’re not going away, are you?”

  “My father had the jacket made for me in Jamaica last time he was there and no, I’m not going away. I brought you this.” He managed to extract himself from her embrace to present her with the flowered silk gown, which was not, thankfully, very wrinkled from having been smashed between them.

  “What’s this?”

  “A gown. I must request that you put it on right now, because if you don’t, we’re going to be late.”

  Puzzled, she frowned, unable to recall any pressing engagement they might have made with anyone. She reached up to push a stray lock of hair off his forehead, thrilled with the simple act of touching him. “Late for what?”

  “For the surprise,” he said.

  “What surprise?”

  “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise. Get dressed and you’ll see.” He walked over to the bed, shoved back the mosquito net and stretched out, propped against the headboard, his ankles crossed and his boots dangling off the edge.

  “Will you help me?” She held up the silk gown and smiled over her shoulder.

  In the mood to tease, Celine lay the silk gown across the footboard and stood at the end of the bed, staring at Cord through lowered lashes. Slowly, provocatively, she untied the sash at her waist and opened the dressing gown. Inch by inch, by slow, seductive degrees, she opened the robe, exposing her nakedness to Cordero.

  She let the robe slip down her shoulders, to her waist and then onto the ground, where it pooled around her feet. Running her hands over her waist and down to her hips, she kept her eyes locked on Cord’s smoldering stare.

  “You’re playing with fire, Celine.” His voice was thick with passion.

  “I know it. That’s what makes this so exciting.” She walked naked around the foot of the bed until she stood before him.

  Celine reached out and nudged his boot up so that his ankles uncrossed. She ran her hands up his pant legs to his thighs. With her fingertips, she teased the telltale bulge beneath the fine serge of his trousers. Moving up to the side of the bed, she cupped his arousal with one hand as she reached out and slipped the fingers of her other hand through his hair and brought his mouth down to her breasts.

  When his mouth closed over a tightly budded nipple, she pressed him close until he suckled. She arched back, savoring the heat that spiraled through her, melting her, starting a deep throb in the sensitive nub at the apex of her thighs. He teased her nipple, toyed with her as he nipped her with his teeth. She nearly came undone when she felt his hand slide between her thighs and slip inside her.

  “You’re melting for me,” he whispered at her breast.

  “Yes,” she whispered back, and pressed against his hand, silently urging him to delve deeper. “Only for you.”

  “We have to hurry,” he said, increasing the friction as he stroked her faster.

  “Yes,” she sighed, bringing her lips to his mouth and her hands to the buttons of his coat. “Hurry.”

  His coat hit the floor a second later. As he pushed her to the brink of climax, she whimpered and fumbled with his shirttails, trying to extricate them from his trousers.

  “Help,” she urged. “Get them … off!”

  “You want me, Celine?”

  “Yes, and I want you naked.”

  Without letting her go, he lifted and shrugged, rolled, kicked and adjusted until she had divested him of his shirt, his pants, his boots and even his stockings, and he was as naked as she.

  As her fingers explored him, as she ran them over his suntanned upper body, over the corded muscles in his arms, over his ribs and the tight ripples of his abdomen, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply, teasing her mouth with his teeth and tongue until she was begging him to take her.

  In one swift move he rolled her beneath him and they lay crosswise on the bed, entangled in clothes, mosquito netting and her still damp hair. He did not tease her any longer, because he could not wait. Cord thrust himself inside her ready, willing body, gathered her close and began to slowly slide along her soft inner core until she was writhing beneath him, clutching the bedclothes, her head thrown back in passion. He was burning to take her, longing for the sweet agony to end and wondering how he could make it go on forever when she grasped his hips and raised up to meet him.

  “Oh, sweet heaven, now, Cordero,” she cried as she felt herself about to splinter into a thousand throbbing pulse points. “Come with me now.”

  “Celine.” Her name was a prayer on his lips as he shattered and drove into her for a final thrust. He spilled his seed into her womb and thanked God that she was alive and in his arms.

  “You should have told me you were serious about this surprise. I would have never distracted you,” Celine said as she pulled her new, very wrinkled gown down over her breasts and began tying the forest green ribbon beneath the bodice.

  “Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you I was serious.” Cord shoved his shirttails back into his trousers and then bent to pull the stirrups over his boots before tugging his pants all the way up.

  “Where are my shoes?” She was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed. “The dark green ones.”

  “The closet?”

  “I think I kicked them off just before I got into the tub.”

  He got down on his hands and knees beside her, searching the floor for her missing shoes.

  “Don’t you have another pair?”

  “They match the dress.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “That depends on the surprise. Is this important, or is this one of those evenings Ada has decided to try out a new recipe and we all have to dress for dinner?”

  He pulled her to him.

  “It’s more important than that,” Cord said softly, holding her upper arms, massaging them with his thumbs as he stared down into her eyes.

  “What is it, Cord?”

  “Will you marry me, Celine?”

  She laughed, and the sound filled his heart with joy.

  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Were you out in the sun without a hat a little too long today?”

  “I’m serious.” He let go of her arms and took both her hands in his. “Would you marry me again if you had a choice?”

  “Oh, Cord,” she whispered, clinging to his hands. “I would marry you again and again and again. I wouldn’t change a minute of it …” She stopped and tipped her head, as if thinking it over. “Well, maybe I would want to forget the trial and the day of the hanging but … nothing else.”

  He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “We’re getting married at sunset. Actually, thanks to that pleasant little interlude, we’re almost too late for sunset.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The surprise. We’re getting married all over again. This time with flowers and guests and a grand reception, just the way it should have been before. Only this time we will marry for love.”

  “Where? When?” She was too astounded to phrase a coherent thought.

  “Out in the garden, as soon as we find your damn shoes.”

  The house was silent and empty, a far cry from the usual afternoon activity in and around the place. Celine felt a flutter of anticipation, wondering when Cord had had the time to plan this second “wedding” and how he’d been enable to enlist everyone’s help without her knowledge. He quite formally escorted her down the stairs, insisting she tuck her hand into his elbow and hold her head high. When they reached the first fl
oor, he stopped long enough to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile down at her, then walked to a side table near the front door and collected a bouquet of hibiscus and crepe myrtle.

  “You look radiant, Celine. You’re the most beautiful bride I ever saw.” He handed her the bouquet and kissed her—briefly this time, afraid as he was to get carried away again.

  She clutched the flowers in one hand and fingered the thick strand of pearls at her neck. “I wish Auguste could be here.”

  Cord only smiled. When he walked her out onto the veranda overlooking the terrace, Celine gasped in shocked surprise as a cheer went up. Gathered there on the terrace were not only their immediate household—Ada, Howard Wells, Foster and Edward—but Auguste, looking every bit as handsome as Cordero: Auguste’s solicitor, Timothy Tinsdale, recently returned from England; all of the newly freed Dunstain Place slaves, from the oldest down to the squirming, wriggling youngest in their mothers’ arms; and the entire crew of Auguste’s ship, the Lady Fair.

  “Nothing too large,” Cord smiled. “Just family.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and nodded to Howard Wells, who hurried up onto the veranda to take his place at her side.

  “Howard will give you away, Celine,” Cord told her, slipping her hand into the crook of the bookseller’s arm.

  Auguste walked up to the veranda next and stood beside Cordero. Celine waited to see who would officiate, wondering what manner of minister would conduct a marriage ceremony for the already married. She glanced down at the assembly and realized there was no one there she did not recognize. Edward and Ada stood side by side, each of them smiling through the copious tears they were shedding, their noses pressed into lace-edged handkerchiefs.

  Foster looked as proud as a peacock and gazed up at the two of them as if the success of their marriage had been entirely his doing. Bobo also had a place of honor in front of the crowd. He stood beside his wife, his son riding high on his shoulders.

  Beyond them all, the sea shimmered silver-blue beneath the tropical sun riding just above the horizon. The trade winds scattered the scent of frangipani through the garden. Torches flickered against the sunset sky.

  At some silent cue, Howard Wells turned Celine so that they stood facing Cord and Auguste. The kindly, soft-spoken bookseller cleared his throat and announced, “I am here to give the bride to the bridegroom and to stand witness for her. Before I do, I would like to say that if I ever had a daughter, I would be proud to have one exactly like you, Celine.” He smiled down at her and then turned to give a slight bow to the assembly.

  “So beautiful,” Ada murmured as she sobbed on Edward’s shoulder. Celine wondered if the two of them might have to be led away before the ceremony ended. She turned back to Cord to see what was next in store.

  “I stand witness for this man, my son, Cordero Moreau,” Auguste said, his voice well able to carry to the back row of the crowd. “He would now like to recite his vows.”

  The crowd hushed. The children, sensing the solemnity of the occasion, all quieted. When Cord reached for her hand, Celine forgot that there were over two hundred people crowded together on the veranda and terrace overlooking the sea. She had eyes only for her husband as she handed Howard Wells her bouquet.

  The only sign of Cord’s nervousness was in the way he held her hands so tight as he began to speak.

  “I, Cordero Moreau, take you, Celine Winters Moreau, to have and to hold from this day forward as my lover, my wife, my other half. I promise that I will never betray your trust, nor will I ever take your love, which you shower on me so abundantly, for granted. I will honor you, defend you, protect and cherish you for as long as we both shall live. I will seal my pledge with this ring as a token of my love.”

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew a sparkling amethyst and slipped it on her finger. Then Cord reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Another rousing cheer went up from the crowd.

  When it was quiet again, Howard leaned close and whispered to Celine, “If you wish to say anything to Cordero, you may do so now.”

  Celine took a deep breath and held tight to Cord’s hands. Unlike him, she’d had no time to rehearse what she would say to him, what vow she would make, so she trusted in herself and her feelings for him, opened her mouth and hoped the right words came out.

  “I, Celine Winters Moreau, take you, Cordero Moreau, from this day forward, to have and to hold, as lover, as husband, as friend. I will accept your love and give you my own. I will trust you with my life and never betray the trust and love you give to me. I give my heart into your safekeeping, just as you have given me yours—a gift beyond measure and a responsibility I will never take lightly.”

  She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I have no ring to exchange as an outward sign of my love—”

  “Celine, it doesn’t matter,” he said softly.

  She shook her head, and then, in a voice that carried to the crowd, added, “But if you are willing to wait a few months, I will present you with our first child.” Celine smiled in triumph. “You see? I just happened to have a little surprise of my own, husband.”

  “I love you, Celine,” he whispered.

  She stared up into eyes as blue as the Caribbean, eyes filled with love, and softly told him, “I thank God every day that I was able to change places with Jemma O’Hurley. I only hope that wherever she is, she is one tenth as happy as I am today.”

  He smiled, a slow, secret smile. “For bringing me you, so do I.” He kissed her to seal the vows and then turned to face the crowd. “I want to thank you all for coming to hear us exchange our vows again and I invite you all to enjoy a wedding feast to celebrate this day. Since everyone helped, you know there will be plenty of music and food for all, so just follow the path through the garden to the mill, where everything is ready.”

  Cord slipped his arm around Celine’s shoulders as they watched the assembled guests begin to head for the mill. The torches were glowing brighter now that the sun had gone down. In a few moments, they were alone with Foster and Edward, Ada, Howard and Auguste. Everyone wanted to talk at once.

  “Celine, a baby!” Ada clasped her hands at her bosom, her eyes twinkling. “Just think! We’ll have to prepare the nursery, and it will need so much care, so many things to eat, porridge and mashed fruit …”

  “Congratulations, Cordero. Celine, you have made an old man very happy.” Auguste kissed her on the cheek. When he pulled away, she noticed a tear glittering in his eye.

  “Forty is not that old,” Celine said. “You could still marry and give our child an aunt or an uncle of nearly the same age.”

  “I’ll leave the baby making to you two,” he said, laughing. “Shall we get a head start on that food, Howard?” Auguste and Howard left, with Ada between them.

  “The perfect ending.” Foster nodded up at them from below the veranda steps. “Just as I always knew it would be, though it took some doing.”

  “Yes, a ’appy ending. Just as it should be.” Edward sniffed into his hankie. “The ’appiest ever.”

  “Before you turn into a bucket o’ tears, I say we get ourselves down to the celebration and see that all’s goin’ right before the bride and groom arrive.” Foster took Edward by the arm and led him toward the mill.

  Cord turned to Celine just as the sun slipped entirely below the horizon and the sky blazed pink and gold. “It truly is a happy ending, isn’t it?” He no longer wondered how and why he’d come to deserve her love, but simply reveled in the joy of it. “When I’m old and you decide to wander through my memories, you’ll find this one tucked safely away,” he told her.

  She looked away, out across the sea, debating how to tell him something she had been wrestling with since they’d left New Orleans.

  “What is it, Celine? What’s brought that worried look to your eyes on such a happy day?” He hugged her close, teased her by rubbing his nose against hers. “Tell me.”

  “It’s gone,�
� she said.

  “What’s gone?”

  “My gift. I can’t see anyone’s memories anymore—not yours, not anyone’s. I don’t know what happened …”

  “Do you think it’s because of the baby? Maybe this is only temporary?”

  She shook her head, having lived with this last secret long enough to know that her gift would never return.

  “No. It happened before the baby, perhaps long before. I think the fever may have had something to do with it. All I know is, that day in Judge Bennett’s chambers, when you had me touch Jean Perot, I saw nothing, felt nothing at all. Thank God Jean broke down and confessed, for when I touched him, I was filled with my own thoughts, and nothing more.”

  “I wondered why you spoke so quickly. You had barely touched him, and you didn’t seem to take on that faraway look or to go all pale and vacant as you always did. I can tell you now, the whole thing always scared the hell out of me.”

  “Are you pleased, then?” she asked.

  “In a way. I would have always been afraid for you, afraid that if word got out, you would feel compelled to use your gift to help others who came to you in need. I saw what a physical toll using the gift took on you, Celine. Too many demands would have been too much for you.” He looked out across the horizon. “No, I can’t say as I’m upset that it’s gone. Are you?”

  “I might be, if I wasn’t so happy with my life here with you, and with the child to come.”

  “And who knows—maybe she’ll have a gift,” Cord mused. “Or maybe she’ll just be a little nag.”

  “Maybe he will be exceedingly handsome and as incorrigible as you.”

  “We could have one of each.” He smiled down into her eyes, held her hand and rubbed his thumb over the surface of the amethyst ring.

  She kissed him and then said, “You know, we could take advantage of the empty house and get started on—”

  Before she could finish the thought, Cord grabbed her hand and led her back inside.