The men laughed good-naturedly at the remark, but Amanda knew René was not enjoying their sentiment. When he leaned forward to retort to Boudreaux’s remark, Alcée interfered. “Did you know Judge Richardson caught Boudreaux and Thibodeaux stealing chickens?”
“My father?” Amanda asked surprised. At her side several people laughed, making her realize Alcée was joking.
“The Judge sentenced them to death by hanging,” Alcée continued seriously. “They built a gallows by the bayou, then placed a noose on Thibodeaux’s neck. The doors swung opened wide, the noose loosened and Thibodeaux fell into the bayou. He then swam away to the other side and to freedom.”
Alcée paused to let the image sink into the minds of his captive audience. “Boudreaux stared at the Judge and at the noose, shaking his head,” Alcée continued. “ ‘You better fix that noose, Judge,’ he says. ‘I can’t swim.’ ”
Everyone listening began to howl while Boudreaux protested loudly. Glancing over at René, Amanda found he was not amused. Not even a smile seemed destined to cross his stern face. She wondered if Marie’s plan was working after all.
“How did you two meet?” Thibodeaux asked, changing the subject to appease his friend, who was still bristling from the joke.
“I was picking flowers one day for the dining room table,” Amanda began. “René came walking down the street, gazing intently at the ground as if lost in thought. He was probably thinking of new ways to make money.”
The group laughed at the reference. It was obvious they all knew René’s over-enthusiasm for commerce. Amanda saw through the corner of her eyes that René was frowning, but she forged straight ahead.
“When he looked up, and his eyes met mine, I lost all logical thought.”
“She was intrigued by my hat.”
It was the first thing René had said that night. All eyes turned in his direction, but they found him as straight-faced as ever. He had placed the gumbo down on the ground at his feet and folded his arms defiantly across his chest.
“If you believe that,” Amanda said, lifting her chin, “then your father’s Judge Richardson.”
The group began to laugh again, Boudreaux urging her on. “Tell us more.”
“I don’t know what spell he cast on me,” Amanda said more seriously, glancing up again at René. “But I braved the hot weather every morning, pretending to cut flowers on bushes that had none just so I could see him again.”
A hush fell about the crowd accented by a few sighs of approval and Amanda could almost feel the smiles of the people around her. But the only person she saw was René. He still refused to smile, his eyes never leaving hers.
“What I could never figure out, was what business he had in town every day that took him by my house.”
“Is it so odd that an Acadian would stroll past the great Judge Richardson’s household?” René asked, a slight curtness emerging in his voice.
Everyone fell silent and Amanda could hear the bullfrogs in the bayou’s rushes several hundred yards away.
“I never noticed the nationalities of the men walking my neighborhood.”
Without his gaze leaving her face, René answered solemnly, “There was no business.”
Amanda should have been thrilled at the news, that René indeed cared for her, walking past her house for no other reason than to have conversation with her. But the personable René she fell in love with refused to return. He leaned contemptuously up against the side of the house, condemning her with his eyes. All Amanda could do was stare imploringly back, wishing that he still believed in her despite what seemed to be prejudice on her part.
Alcée sensed the awkwardness between them. He immediately rose and grabbed his fiddle. “I think it’s time the wedding couple had a dance.”
The group mumbled their approval, Thibodeaux leading Amanda by the arm back into the house, and several women pushing René in as well. Alcée resumed his royal position in the northwest corner of the room and began playing Jolie Blonde. Amanda and René didn’t have a chance to react to their closeness; they both turned to Alcée and voiced their disapproval.
“One more time,” he argued, raising his hands. “I promise I’ll not sing the words.”
Before they could digest it further, the lilting song began and everyone stared grinning at the couple who had fallen hopelessly in love over a white picket fence. René took Amanda gently into his arms and began leading her across the floor in a slow waltz.
For several minutes, neither one spoke. Amanda couldn’t fathom what René was thinking; all she comprehended was the immense pleasure of once again being in his arms. She realized then she could not wait a moment longer.
“Why didn’t you tell me you asked my father for my hand?”
René stiffened, glancing suspiciously down at her. “I thought you knew.”
Amanda shook her head. “Your mother told me this afternoon.”
She wasn’t sure René believed her, for his scrutiny continued.
“René, I don’t know what my father said to you, but I don’t share his opinions. How could I? I’m half French.”
“Half Creole,” René interjected, and Amanda felt as if she had moved two steps forward and three steps back.
“That’s not fair.”
A grim smile edged its way at the corners of René lips. He turned so he faced her directly, and tilted his head downward as they continued to turn about the room.
“Be honest with me, Amanda. If your father had agreed, would you have married me?”
Before he could finish the sentence Amanda answered confidently, “Yes.”
René jerked back slightly, clearly surprised at her answer. By the doubtful expression on his face, she knew he wasn’t yet convinced.
“Why would I have waited for you every morning if I didn’t care for you?”
“You said it yourself last night you never would have asked an Acadian to escort you to a ball.”
“I had no choice,” Amanda whispered heatedly. “My father never would have allowed it. Yes, I asked Henry because he was an American. I was also being disrespectful to my father’s instructions. Do you think I should have doubled my disobedience by asking you to escort me to the ball of my peers?”
René continued turning around the dance floor, but said nothing. “René, I would have been honored. But I was strictly forbidden to associate with the French.”
Still René said nothing, staring over her shoulder lost in thought. Taking in a deep breath, Amanda knew it was now or never. “I love you,” she whispered.
A light sparkled in the dark depths of his eyes and he stood taller as if a great weight had been lifted. She sensed a smile lingering behind his still stalwart expression.
“I always was in love with you,” Amanda continued. “Only I never let myself believe it. It seemed like such an impossibility at the time. And I always imagined you had a girl somewhere.”
At that last thought, René finally grinned, shaking his head. “There was never anyone but you,” he breathed so passionately Amanda felt a lightning bolt all the way to her toes.
The song ended and René smoothly turned Amanda around while bowing, as was the custom at the end of a dance. Amanda curtsied, then drew herself as close as polite company allowed. She wanted so desperately to touch him.
René returned a look that also spoke of desire and Amanda wished with all her soul they were anywhere but in a room filled with people. Suddenly, a thought came to mind. A sly, ingenious thought.
“May I have the next dance?” Thibodeaux asked, as he reached for Amanda’s elbow.
“Please forgive me,” she said, offering a sweet smile, “but I’m really not myself. I feel a headache coming on. Perhaps I could sit this one out?”
René moved in closer, clearly concerned. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”
She almost laughed. She never expected René to fall for the lie as well. Marie was right about the power women had over men.
“It mus
t be all the excitement and dancing.”
“It is still terribly hot,” Thibodeaux said. “What you need is some fresh air.”
“Fresh air on a buggy ride home,” René added, taking her arm and gently leading her to the front of the house.
They made their farewells, politely thanking Celestine LeBlanc for her hospitality and heading for the door before Amanda realized she was on her way home and to her first night as a bride. The blood racing through her veins was enough to give her a headache for sure.
While René asked Paul LeBlanc for a ride — leaving the larger wagon for the family to use later — Amanda spotted Marguerite by the side of the house placing dirty dishes into a wash bucket. Marguerite had helped the LeBlancs with housework all evening and Amanda didn’t remember seeing her dance once. Amanda approached her quietly. The dark haired woman looked up at Amanda, her coal black eyes emitting a warmth like that of a hearth on a cold winter’s day, and she presented a shy smile. Amanda took the opportunity to take her hand in hers.
“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to talk. I was so looking forward to knowing you.”
Marguerite’s eyes brightened. “Perhaps another time.”
“I do hope so. I have heard so much about you.”
“Oh?” Marguerite looked unraveled. “I can’t imagine from whom.”
Amanda squeezed her hand. “Can’t you?”
Just then, Marie appeared and gave her daughter-in-law a loving hug. Turning to René, Marie planted a motherly kiss on her son’s cheek before sending them off to the buggy. “Brandy,” Marie whispered to René. “A glass of brandy will do wonders.”
“What?” he asked, but his mother merely waved goodbye.
René helped Amanda into the buggy, placing her between him and Paul, who held the reins. Since there was no moon and visibility was nil once they left the house, Amanda snaked an arm through René’s and placed her cheek against his taunt upper arm. Paul sang a favorite ballad on the ride home, one Amanda would have cherished on any other occasion. Tonight, all she fathomed was the broad shoulder on which she rested her head and the delicate kiss that arrived so silently on her forehead.
Their house had been left in darkness, so Paul and René felt their way to the oil lamp left conveniently by the hitching post. Once the lamp was lit, the men entered each room, lighting more candles and lamps until they could make their way around.
“I’ll help you light the upper floors,” Paul said. Word had gotten around among the Acadians of Tanner’s threats against René. Amanda knew Paul was looking out for his friend and neighbor. She felt safer knowing he lived a quarter of a mile down the road. René checked his rooms while Paul looked in on Colette’s quarters. Amanda followed quietly behind.
“I’ll quickly check on the garçonnière and then I’ll be on my way,” Paul said, tapping his hat politely to Amanda.
“Merci,” René answered. He turned to Amanda and for the first time that evening she felt hope. The smile that beamed from his handsome face was warmer than noon in August. He cupped her face with his large hands, delicately stroking her cheek with his thumbs. “Is there anything I can get you for your headache.”
“No thank you,” Amanda said in a hollow voice. His actions were doing funny things to her breathing. “I don’t have a headache.”
René whistled as he watched Paul LeBlanc ride out of sight. Brandy. Brandy would do wonders. Funny, he thought, how parents seemed so unintelligible when one is young. His parents had gained so much knowledge since he left home five years ago.
He smiled at the humor of it and grabbed two glasses and the brandy decanter. He wanted to leap up the stairs to his waiting bride, but he told Amanda to get ready for bed and God only knew how long women took doing such things. He whistled Jolie Blonde climbing the stairs and walking through his — hopefully soon to be Alcée’s again — bedroom, giving Amanda fair warning he was getting close. René knocked at the door, and an anxious voice granted him admittance.
Amanda had stripped to her nightgown, a light cotton shift that buttoned at the front and left her arms bare. Her blonde curls flowed freely about her shoulders. She sat upright on the bed, the cotton sheet held tightly between her fingers as she held it up against her chest. All the intensity of unrequited desire emerged within him and he thought he would explode on the spot.
“What have you brought?”
“Brandy,” he said, sitting across from her on the bed. Slowly, he began to remove his boots. “My mother’s suggestion.”
“I can’t drink liquor,” Amanda said wide-eyed.
“It’s not liquor, it’s brandy.”
Amanda smiled slightly and René wondered if he was wrong. Alcohol was never his forte. “Are you sure your mother said...?”
“It will help you relax.”
Amanda looked at René hard and swallowed. She loosened her hold on the sheet and let in fall in her lap. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”
René slipped his hand around her cheek and brushed his lips gently across hers. She instinctively put a hand on his shoulder when he drew near, then moved her hand around his neck, sliding her fingers through the soft brown curls at his nape.
René moaned at the touch and moved closer. He placed his other hand at her waist and drew her against him. He could feel the roundness of her breasts beating rhythmically against his chest. He deepened the kiss until he tasted all of her, at the same time exploring the curves of her back and the upper soft reaches of her thighs.
When his hands moved the gown upwards, exposing more and more of her legs, Amanda jerked back.
“I’m sorry,” she instantly said. “I really am nervous.”
“Don’t be sorry, my love,” René said, moving back. “All brides are nervous on their wedding nights.”
René reached for the glasses and began filling them with the dark, brown liquid. He offered her a glass. “This will help.”
Amanda took a quick look at the drink before her, then tilted her head back to drink it whole. René stared in shock as his non-drinking wife devoured an entire glass of brandy in one swallow.
“Amanda!” he exclaimed, when the effects of what she had done suddenly hit her and she began coughing.
“Aren’t you supposed to drink it that way? My father drinks whiskey like that.”
René deposited his glass and the rest of the brandy on the night table and began patting Amanda on the back. “You’re supposed to sip brandy.”
“Oh.”
When the color returned to Amanda’s face, René had to smile. His wife clearly was a mystery. Just when he thought she was a naive flower, too inexperienced to know better, she surprised him with the bravery of a conqueror. Then at times like these he felt destined to protect her from life’s harsher realities.
“I’m sorry,” she reiterated.
“Will you stop apologizing.”
The brandy began to affect her, for her eyes became glassy and her movements seemed more relaxed, more lucid.
“I’ll stop apologizing,” she said with a sly grin, “when you start kissing me again.”
René didn’t need encouragement. He linked both his hands around her waist pulling her close as he planted loving kisses over her face and down her neck to her shoulders. Amanda didn’t resist this time, moving whenever René demanded more space at her neck. When he began unbuttoning her gown, her breathing quickened, but she didn’t protest. René drew back then, gazing deeply into her azure eyes while he slid a hand inside the bodice of her nightgown, cupping the sweet magic hidden underneath. He quickly found what he was searching for, squeezing the nipple gently between his fingers as his mouth descended again upon hers.
Amanda eagerly met his lips, her tongue meeting his. Fighting the urgency in his desire, René slowly lowered Amanda down against the pillows, while his kisses laid a trail down her neck to her exposed breast. He took her in his mouth then, feeling Amanda’s fingers groping madly through his hair, his tongue circling her nipple, forcing it
taut, and his hand moved down to her thigh, sliding upward, taking the gown with it.
When he parted her thighs, she was ready for him. He slid a finger gently inside, hoping to ease his wife’s pain when they were finally joined. She murmured a slight protest, reaching for his hand, until René moved his thumb forward and found the soft, raised fold of skin. As he began to stroke, her body arched in response.
“Oh my God,” Amanda cried, tightening her hold on his hair, her hips lifting toward heaven.
René’s lips never left her breast as he continued to massage the tiny pressure point. Amanda moaned continuously, her breathing becoming more rapid while deep shudders echoed through her body. Finally, she arched her hips stiffly and pushed René’s hand away.
“No more,” she whispered.
René gazed up at her then, so magnificently beautiful basking in the mist of passion. She opened her eyes, still sated by the effects of the brandy.
“I never knew....”
René smiled and nibbled at the tip of her chin. He wanted her so badly he imagined the buttons popping from his trousers. But he had to take it slow.
Amanda raised herself up on her elbows. “What about you?” she asked so sweetly he nearly took her on the spot.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” René said softly, brushing the dampened blonde curls from her cheek.
Amanda stared at him thoughtfully while her hand moved across his face stopping to graze his lips. René grasped her hand tightly against his lips, savoring the inside of her palm.
Suddenly, Amanda moved her hand away. She picked up the glass at the bedside table and once again drank it whole.
“What are you possibly thinking?” René started, as she again began to cough.
This time, Amanda didn’t answer. She placed the glass down, took a moment for the liquor to leave her head and fill her veins, then began unbuttoning René’s shirt. René thought to stop her; after all, it was up to him to be the teacher tonight. But the touch of her long delicate fingers undressing him was too delicious to resist. He watched her as she bit her lower lip, concentrating on the matter at hand. God, how much he loved his wife.
A Cajun Dream (The Cajun Series Book 5) Page 23