A Cajun Dream (The Cajun Series Book 5)

by Claire, Cherie

  Before he could comprehend his actions, James leaned forward and lightly kissed her lips. He didn’t know what caused him to do such a thing, but her response was more surprising than his actions. Virginia emitted a soft moan and returned his advances, stretching her arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. James deepened the kiss, savoring the sweet sensations awakening within him.

  God, she tasted sweet, James thought, just before a carriage was heard arriving at the front of the house. James paused, resting his forehead against Virginia’s and closing his eyes to try to resume a steady breath.

  “We must...,” he began.

  Virginia instantly released herself from his hold and stood back avoiding his eyes. She held the back of her hand to her mouth as if shocked at her actions.

  “I’m entirely to blame,” James said, trying to calm the awkwardness. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Virginia said nothing, but shook her head. “I shall leave first thing.”

  The thought of losing his trusted Virginia flooded James’ mind. It was unthinkable. He couldn’t live without her. He was about to tell her so when the door quietly opened and Amanda appeared, the bright afternoon sunlight blinding them all.

  “Have I interrupted something?” she asked.

  All the way into town Amanda had fretted over the lunchtime meeting with her father and Gin. Her stomach became so knotted with anxiety she couldn’t imagine holding down any food. She even prepared a speech for when she entered the foyer and addressed her father for the first time since their meeting that fateful afternoon. But when she opened the door, her father and Gin appeared more guilty than she.

  “Of course not,” her father bellowed, blushing a deep rouge that matched Virginia’s. “We were just discussing you.”

  What reprieve she experienced from her previous anxiety was short-lived. Amanda felt once again like Daniel in the Lion’s Den. Still, something had happened. Amanda wondered if Gin had finally announced her feelings for her father. Gin never expressed them to Amanda, but it was obvious she painfully pined for the man in silence.

  “I’ll see to lunch,” Virginia said, and quickly hurried away while James’ gaze followed her out of the room.

  Amanda decided to seize on the opportunity. “That’s not like Gin. I expected fifty questions by now. Is something wrong?”

  James spun around heatedly, literally forcing Amanda back a step. “What’s wrong? The child she loved and cared for these past ten years disappears in the middle of night after informing her she was going to bed, then runs off with the town’s racetrack owner and you ask what’s wrong?”

  “I...,” Amanda began, jumping back another step.

  “What are you doing here, Amanda? Have you finally come to your senses and left him?”

  The idea that her father would think she was returning home for good hadn’t occurred to Amanda. “I’ve come home for lunch,” she said meekly. “I want us to go on as before.”

  “We will never go on as before,” James said between gritted teeth. “You have destroyed this family.”

  Tears Amanda had not expected welled in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Waltzing out of here in the middle of the night like a wanton woman and eloping with a man you know nothing about, a man I never would have approved of?” the Judge shouted. “How could you, Amanda?”

  The sobs reached her chest and Amanda knew conversation was impossible. She covered her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud.

  “Tell me you don’t love him,” James said softly. “Tell me this was all a big mistake. We’ll have it annulled in no time. Marriages like this can be fixed. Tell me that’s what you want.”

  When Amanda said nothing, still crying painfully into her handkerchief, James grabbed his daughter by her shoulders. “It’s simple, Amanda. Tell me that’s what you want.”

  Through her tear-blurred vision, Amanda could see the determination in her father’s eyes. Anger over what she had done was expected, but where was the paternal concern? Why wasn’t his heart breaking because she left him, and not because she married poorly?

  Amanda had lost her mother when she was twelve years old. Two years ago, when they received news of her mother’s death, she lost her father as well. At times she doubted he still loved her.

  “No,” she whispered, looking away to escape his furious stare.

  James released her, and stepped back, still staring at her intently. “Then tell your French husband that I will be more than generous if he agrees to an annulment. I’m sure he will not turn down such an offer. Tell him to name his price.”

  Thoughts of Tanner and his vow to make her father pay for the privilege of marrying his daughter came back all too clearly. “Is that what I am to you, a product to be bought or sold?”

  “No, that’s what you are to your fortune-hunting husband.”

  “You’re wrong, Father.” Amanda met his eyes bravely. “René is a good man.”

  “René has his price. Tell him my offer and see for yourself.”

  “Lunch is ready,” Virginia announced quietly from the back of the foyer.

  While Amanda breathed a quick sigh of relief at the interruption, James grabbed his hat and headed for the door. “Tell him, Amanda,” he instructed her as he opened the door. “You’ll be surprised what the French want after all.”

  The horse beat out a steady rhythm along the bayou road as T-Emile drove the carriage home. Amanda was thankful for his shyness, for she wasn’t in the mood for conversation, especially dialogue that had to be translated inside her head. Her thoughts remained in English, her father’s angry words reverberating throughout her mind.

  She must ask René about an annulment. It was wrong of her to think he wouldn’t want a chance out of the marriage if one was available. He married her to protect her reputation, but would he remain married to her given an option?

  Still, if she asked and insulted him she would never forgive herself. He had been so kind, so generous. She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him once again as she had that morning.

  As hard as she wished them away, doubts continued to creep into her thoughts. Why did René marry her? Was he really being noble or did he have other intentions?

  It wouldn’t hurt to mention the money. If René wasn’t interested in her inheritance, he’d say so. If he wanted the money and the opportunity to rid himself of his wife, then best to know now and avoid a lifetime of an unloving marriage.

  Tears pressed upon her eyes, and Amanda fought hard to keep them at bay. She didn’t know which hurt worst, her father’s angry shouting or the fact that René might not care in the least to be her husband.

  As the house slowly came into view, Amanda knew what she had to do. She would give René his options and let him decide. After all, his life had been disrupted as much as hers. Perhaps he was secretly longing to return to normalcy.

  “The daughter of a French aristocrat?” René asked his uncle as the two entered the house. Alcée had mentioned he wanted to have a tête-a-tête with him on the way back from the racetrack, but René was beginning to doubt his motives. Alcée had tried several times to talk him out of loving Amanda, but this new trick was a bit far-fetched.

  “She told me so herself,” Alcée said earnestly.

  “What are you talking about? She’s the daughter of Judge Richardson. The man who hates the French, remember?”

  Alcée removed his hat and beat the dust from it before crossing the threshold of the workroom. “Her mother was Genevieve Vanier, the famous opera singer.”

  Now, this sounded familiar, René thought. “The French singer who came to St. Martinville?” he asked with a devilish grin. “The one you were in love with when you were sixteen?”

  “René,” Alcée said sternly. “Vanier was her mother. She left Amanda and Judge Richardson ten years ago for France and the opera stage. Some say she left with another man, a Frenchman. Judge Richardson despises anything French because he can’t sta
nd being reminded of her.”

  René searched his uncle’s eyes for signs of dishonesty, but found none. “You’re telling a joke, no?”

  “No,” Alcée answered, unsmiling.

  “Vanier, the opera singer?”

  Alcée nodded, then added, “Vanier, whose family were friends of kings.”

  René brushed his hands anxiously through his fine brown hair. Marrying the daughter of a rich, prominent American family was one mountain to climb, but the daughter of French aristocracy? What could a simple Acadian offer such a woman?

  “Don’t be surprised if she leaves,” Alcée said softly, offering a friendly hand on René’s shoulder. “She’s not one of us, René. How could a woman of her upbringing possibly be happy here? She’s bound to go home sooner or later.”

  René heard the advice being given by Alcée, but his thoughts remained on the bright, smiling face of the woman he so dearly loved. With a heavy heart he left the house, silently moving into the diffused light of the oncoming sunset, staring down at the slow moving bayou.

  It all seemed so easy — marry Amanda and let the world be damned. He hadn’t considered she may want the marriage annulled. He hadn’t realized how far apart they were socially. They seemed like equals talking amiably at her fence.

  Colette began to call Alexandre and Pierre into the house. Dinnertime was approaching and Amanda hadn’t returned. In all likelihood, René thought, she had probably sent T-Emile home with a letter stating she would remain in town, safe at home with her father. While René’s heart struggled with the weight of that image, he couldn’t help but hope she would appear at his door.

  As Pierre rushed by on the way to the house, René effortlessly scooped him up and held him tight, the young boy reciprocating the affections by wrapping his arms around his beloved cousin. Wondering if he would ever hold children of his own — ones with blond curls and eyes the color of a summer sky — René hugged the boy tightly.

  Amanda stood staring, transfixed at her tall husband lovingly hugging his cousin, whose four-year-old legs dangled to René’s knees. The sun was setting behind the house, casting an orange glow on the bayou and reflecting on the soft brown hues of René’s hair.

  A woman couldn’t ask for a more loving husband, she thought. Father had to be wrong. René couldn’t have married her for the money. Still, she had resolved to give René the option, and now was as good a time as any.

  She walked up silently beside him, just as he released Pierre from his hold and the boy bolted off toward the house. When René looked up again, his piercing brown eyes caught hers and the familiar knots tightened inside her. For three days now, she had hardly been able to breathe.

  “How did it go with your father?” he asked quietly.

  Amanda stared into his deep chestnut eyes, glistening in the setting sun, and his kindly words turned the knots into butterflies. “Fine,” was all she could manage.

  For a moment, René brightened. Then he turned toward the house, offering his arm to Amanda. “It’s time for dinner,” he said, almost as if it were a question.

  As she placed her hand on his forearm, Amanda drew closer, reveling in the safeness she felt in his presence, breathing in deeply his scent of manliness and a hint of store-bought tonic. She would ask him later.

  At dinner, few words were spoken, except by the boys who could hardly contain themselves from speaking on every subject imaginable. Amanda was thankful for their nonstop chattering; it kept her thoughts from René.

  Colette allowed Amanda to clear the table, but steadfastly refused to let her clean and dry the dishes. Since the boys seemed preoccupied with the game of cache et fait, a Louisiana version of hide-and-seek, and T-Emile had returned to some chores at the stables, Amanda joined Alcée and René in the living room. René sat absorbed at his desk, jotting down notes and numbers in a series of books. Alcée sat by the fireplace, polishing his boots.

  “Can I help in any way?” Amanda asked.

  Both men looked up and frowned in unison as if the question was absurd. Amanda couldn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to participate in the household chores. Did they think she was incapable simply because she came from a wealthy American family?

  “I’m skilled in many areas. I spent three years at a lady’s finishing school in Virginia.” What she hoped would make an impression brought another round of frowns. Perhaps it was the language barrier.

  “I must help out,” she insisted. “Is there nothing I can do around here?”

  Alcée brushed the boots aside and held out a chair. “You may be my harshest critic,” he said with a dashing smile and a bow.

  Before Amanda could question his statement, Alcée removed one of the violins off the shelf and began tuning the instrument.

  “Alcée will perform at the drop of a hat,” René said to her from across the room. “Don’t encourage him too much or you’ll never get to sleep.”

  Amanda smiled broadly now that she was finally feeling like part of the family. “Whose violin is the other one?”

  Alcée laughed as he pulled the bow over the strings, testing several notes. “It’s René’s, but the man will never be a good musician until he understands that work stops at sunset.”

  “It has to be done,” René grumbled without looking up.

  “Only if you insist on making more money than we need,” Alcée countered.

  “We can always use more money.”

  “We have more than enough.”

  “Not to me,” René added, his tone getting harsher.

  Alcée sighed. “So, don’t listen to me. Listen to your father.” Alcée glanced back at Amanda. “My brother-in-law, René’s father, always taught us to be content with what sustains us. But Monsieur Businessman over there doesn’t know when to stop and play the music.”

  “If you would have worked harder and played less, perhaps Marguerite wouldn’t have married Francois,” René retorted without looking up from his work.

  René’s words appeared to have pierced Alcée’s heart. He stood staring accusingly at his nephew, visibly affected. René suddenly realized what he said and looked up. “I’m sorry, Alcée. I didn’t mean...”

  “Forget it,” Alcée retorted abruptly, concentrating back on his violin.

  A heaviness instantly settled over the room. Amanda watched as René anxiously pulled his fingers through his hair. She wondered why his uncle worried about his working so hard, and the mysterious woman named Marguerite. When René continued the conversation, his tone turned quiet, almost pleading.

  “I play second fiddle to my accomplished uncle,” he said to Amanda. “It would be hopeless of me to even dream of being as good as him, so I stick to what I know, even if it takes me all night to do it.”

  Alcée digested his words thoughtfully. “Some of us are meant to play music. Others are meant to be outstanding men of business.”

  René glanced up and smiled slightly at his uncle. Despite any misunderstanding they might have, Amanda sensed they would always be great friends.

  “Now, madame,” Alcée asked Amanda, “any requests?”

  A list of songs rolled through Amanda’s brain, but before she could utter a word, Alcée began the traditional French folksong, Le Pont de Nantes, a song Amanda recognized from her childhood. The words were slightly different, but their description of a bridge in Brittany and the memory of her mother singing them came flooding back.

  Alcée glanced over when the tears swelled up in Amanda’s eyes. He instantly charged into a song she did not recognize, a rousing song that sounded like it involved a lot of drinking and toasting. When René looked up and cast a warning look in Alcée’s direction, Amanda assumed she was right. Alcée finished the short ditty and grinned.

  “Perhaps something softer,” he said.

  Alcée closed his eyes to concentrate on a soft waltz, his bow moving effortlessly across the violin as if the movements were as natural to him as breathing. The violin sang eagerly in response, the notes of t
he song beseeching Amanda to listen, that here was a song of heartbreak, of undying love.

  While the perspiration slithered down the backs of her knees and she fanned the stagnant hot night air with her handkerchief, Amanda settled back in her chair and let the passionate music infuse her. Her heart seemed to stop pumping, replaced instead by a three-beat rhythm.

  Alcée then began to sing a song of a man pining for his blonde love, a man devastated that she has left him. He begs her to reconsider, to not listen to others and return to her family. He announces his complete love for her, adding that death would be welcome if she is not his.

  For a moment Amanda imagined he was singing the song for her benefit. When he mentioned blonde for the third time, she glanced over at René, who sat staring off thoughtfully. Surely, it was a coincidence.

  When Alcée finished the song, Amanda applauded enthusiastically. Alcée responded with a slight bow. “Merci.”

  “Perhaps it’s time you went to bed,” René said, suddenly at Amanda’s side and gently pulling her out of the chair. “It’s late.”

  “I’m not tired.” Amanda hoping for more of the sad, yet romantic music and Alcée’s intoxicating violin playing. She wondered how Alcée could have stayed a bachelor so long with such a remarkable talent.

  “You should go to bed,” Alcée echoed. “I’ll play some more for you tomorrow.”

  “Please do,” Amanda said, then immediately wondered if there would be a tomorrow. She looked up at René and her stomach tightened. She had to ask him.

  The two walked up the stairs in silence, pausing only inside Alcée’s bedroom door, the room now being used by René. Once inside the threshold to René’s former room, a wall would separate them. “Well, goodnight,” René said quietly, handing her the lamp.

  “Goodnight.” Amanda felt amazingly disappointed. What had she expected, a kiss goodnight?

  Yes, her heart responded, which might prove he didn’t wish for an annulment after all.