"Fool." He swore savagely. "I bought that for your protection. And you didn’t even have the sense to use it."
For both of them, their emotions were too close to the surface to control. They resorted to the only thing they knew—anger.
She struggled to get her arms into the sleeves, looking even smaller and younger wrapped in his oversized coat. Holding the coat closed with one hand, she extended her other. "Thank you, Chase, for saving my—virtue tonight. And probably my life."
At any other time he would have smiled at the formal tone, but he was still too angry. "You’re very welcome, Miss Montgomery. Any time I can be of service."
"But I would appreciate it if you would refrain from offering any more advice. I think I know how I ought to behave without lessons from a man like you."
His anger was deepening. "A man like ..."
"My sweet Lord Almighty!" Hattie Lee stood in the doorway, staring at the two of them as if she’d just seen a ghost. "What happened to you, child?"
"A man attacked me. When Chase kicked in the door, my attacker escaped through that window. It was too dark to identify him."
Hattie Lee hurried forward, her face mirroring her shock. Staring around, she noted the desk drawers overturned, the wall cabinets standing open. "Did you move the cash box today?"
Annalisa nodded and pointed to a small table in the corner. "I put it in there."
"Thank the Lord you had the good sense to follow Chase’s advice."
Annalisa shot him a frigid look.
"And the ledgers?"
Annalisa gasped as Hattie Lee searched the desk drawers. "They’re gone."
Chase glanced at Annalisa’s face. It had gone as white as chalk.
"Save your comments for later. What she needs now is sleep, Hattie Lee. Maybe you ought to send for Dr. Lynch to bring her a sedative."
"I won’t have the two of you fussing over me like a child. I can manage to sleep without calling in the doctor again."
Without another glance at Chase, Annalisa walked from the room, holding herself stiffly erect, the sleeves of his jacket dangling far over her hands, the hem falling to below her knees. Even in that ridiculous outfit, Chase thought, she looked as lovely as any queen.
Chapter Fourteen
Annalisa had known sleep wouldn’t come. As she lay on her bed, she kept replaying the terrifying scene in her mind. The man’s hands. The knife. The cruelty of his laughter. His raspy voice.
Charles Montagnet. She sat up and stared through the darkness. The mere thought of his name brought fresh tremors of fear. Why had she not spoken of her suspicions? Maybe because she’d been too shocked by the events in her office. Or maybe she was afraid to put a name on her attacker. As long as she didn’t know who he was, she could pretend that it had been nothing more than a bad dream. But if she spoke his name aloud, it would then be an admission that it was all real, and that the threat was still hanging over her head.
She bounded from her bed and paced to the window. No, she reasoned. She hadn’t told Chase because she had no proof. It wouldn’t be fair to voice her suspicions until she knew without any doubt who meant to harm her. She wrapped her arms about herself and shivered. But in her heart, she was already certain her attacker had been the governor’s aide.
"Now, you little bitch, you’re going to pay. " The words rang in her mind, and she felt again the force of his fury.
Her legs suddenly felt weak, as the gravity of the situation dawned on her. Charles Montagnet was a man who had real power. The power that came with wealth and position. He had the governor’s trust. If he chose, he could make her life very unpleasant. And if he chose, he could try again to seek his revenge on her. That was his motive for the attack, she realized. Revenge. She had foiled his attempt to blackmail her into a relationship with him. And in so doing, she had incurred the wrath of a bitter, vindictive man. But why did she have the feeling that Montagnet and the creature on the riverboat were somehow connected? Impossible. She dismissed the fear. Her imagination was getting twisted. She was being a foolish child.
Kneeling on the cold floor, she rested her arms on the windowsill and propped her chin on her hands. Moonlight silvered the ornate furniture below and the carefully cultivated plants of the rose garden. The perfume of a hundred roses wafted on the night breeze. But the beauty of that tranquil scene was lost on her. She looked up to watch the path of a shooting star and found herself childishly making a wish. With eyes squeezed tightly shut, she tried to blot out the image of the man in her office. When her eyes opened, she thought she saw a movement in the shadow of a tree in the garden. She strained against the darkness, trying to make out some shape, some form. But there was nothing. Had she imagined it? Would she be forever seeing a man’s image lurking in every shadow?
Leaping up, she closed and locked the window, then hurried across the room and tucked the little gun beneath her pillow. Crawling between the sheets she huddled in the bed with her back to the wall, boldly searching the night sky outside the window for a sign of the dawn that couldn’t come soon enough to suit her. Never again would she be able to take her safety for granted. Never again would she be able to walk a path without looking over her shoulder. Her attacker had stolen something precious this night—her sense of freedom.
* * *
Chase bit the end of a cigar and refused to give in to the urge to light it. With his back against the rough bark of the tree, he watched the window on the upper floor, seeing the shadow flitting back and forth.
He’d known it would be impossible for her to sleep tonight. Her nerves had been strung to the breaking point. And if she did doze, she would be plagued by nightmares.
Damn her obstinacy! Her pride wouldn’t allow her to send for the doctor. A sedative would have allowed her exhausted body to rest and would have kept her mind from dwelling on the terror. And so she paced, alone and afraid. And he was forced to stand here feeling helpless. A part of him longed to go to her and fold her in his arms and hold back, for at least one night, the demons of darkness. Another part of him argued logically that he’d done enough. It wasn’t his place to offer solace to a woman who didn’t want it, and who probably wouldn’t accept it even if she did. Damn stubborn female.
Seeing her figure at the window silhouetted in the moonlight, he shrank back into the shadows and watched as she lifted her face to the heavens. She had brushed her hair loose, and it drifted in soft waves below her shoulders. She was wearing something pale and shimmery, and he found himself remembering the body he had glimpsed in the dim light of her office. He saw her stare in his direction and then shrink back, out of sight. He cursed his clumsiness and moved deeper into the shadows.
He wasn’t certain that she’d believed his lie about sticking around only to complain about her actions with Nate Blackwell. The truth was, he had been stunned to see the two of them in that tender embrace. And Chase acknowledged to himself that he’d felt the first stirrings of an emotion he’d never known before—jealousy. It was an alien feeling, and one that left him furious. But the real reason he’d gone to her office was because he had seen Charles Montagnet walk in that direction when the others were leaving.
Charles Montagnet. If even half the rumors about him were true, he was worse than an animal. Chase was certain he’d been Annalisa’s attacker. But it would do no good to alarm her further. As long as she was unable to identify the man in her office, his accusation was useless. It wasn’t enough to think a man guilty. It was necessary to prove it. And prove it he would. He intended to use every connection he had, call in every favor owed him, to find out all he could about Charles Montagnet.
When he saw no further movement in the room, he hunched his shoulders and slumped against the tree trunk. The night air was cool, and he longed for his jacket. But it gave him a measure of comfort to know that it had warmed her body.
Drawing the clean handkerchief from his back pocket, he lifted it to his face and inhaled the delicate rose fragrance that still lingered. S
he’d returned it to him days ago, freshly laundered. And still it smelled of roses and Annalisa.
He listened carefully to the night sounds, to assure himself that no one else was lurking nearby. The pleasant chirp of crickets, the hum of insects, lulled him until his head bobbed, waking him with a start. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he realized how weary he was. He had been up for nearly twenty-four hours. And he had to leave in a few hours for New York and points east.
Stepping carefully from the shadows, he began walking along the road back to the city. There was someone he needed to visit before he left New Orleans. Someone who could be trusted to keep an eye on Annalisa until he returned.
* * *
"This is Luther."
Annalisa was inspecting a case of champagne in the pantry when she heard Hattie Lee’s voice behind her. Looking up she saw a tall, handsome young man of about twenty-five. His skin was the color of nutmeg; his short, kinky hair and smiling eyes as black as a raven.
"Luther is the answer to our prayers," Hattie Lee went on as Annalisa shook his hand. "He’s good with horses, and he swears he can repair just about anything that breaks down around a house."
"Can you repair a broken carriage wheel?" Annalisa asked.
"Sure can." His eyes sparkled. "And I’m willing to work for room and board."
"Where will he sleep?" Annalisa turned to Hattie Lee.
"He can sleep in the loft above the barn. I’ll send one of the maids out with fresh towels and linens. He can take his meals in the kitchen."
Annalisa studied him. The strength in his powerful arms was evident beneath the faded shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows. He seemed almost too good to be true. Her suspicions were instantly aroused.
"How did you happen to come here for a job?"
"Chase Masters suggested I come. Miss Hattie Lee told him you were looking for a handyman."
"Is that so?"
Hattie Lee nodded. "I mentioned it to Chase just the other day."
Annalisa seemed satisfied. "All right. Welcome, Luther. Let Hattie Lee know what tools you need."
"Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am," he said, bowing his way out of the kitchen.
As he crossed the porch, Annalisa watched him straighten and square his shoulders. He carried himself very tall and proud. He had an aura of strength and power. Not at all like some of the men she’d seen looking for odd jobs. She shook her head and went back to the pantry. She was going to have to stop being so suspicious.
* * *
"Where you going with that shirt, girl?"
Hattie Lee’s voice caused Eulalie to pause with her hand on the back door. "I’m taking it out to the barn."
"You’ve been spending a lot of time lately in that barn."
"I promised Luther I’d wash and iron his shirt."
"Since when did you start taking in laundry?" Hattie Lee stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the young girl.
"I just thought it would be nice. He has no family but us."
"I don’t recall asking him to join the family. He’s here to keep things in good repair." Her sharp gaze bore into the girl, seeing the slight flush on her cheeks, the light in her eyes. "Don’t be thinking about giving away what you usually sell."
"Hattie Lee. That’s a horrible thing to say."
The girl stomped out, slamming the door behind her. Through the window, Hattie Lee watched as she nearly flew across the yard toward the barn. When she reached it, she slowed her pace, allowing her hips to sway.
"I see Eulalie’s all dressed up to visit the barn," Annalisa said behind her.
The black woman turned. "Yes. And when she comes back to the house, we’ll find little bits of hay sticking to her back."
Annalisa laughed. "You have to admit Luther is handsome. And Eulalie’s never looked happier."
"I don’t like it." Hattie Lee swiped the dust from a corner with more energy than necessary. "That’s the kind of thing gets a girl in trouble."
"A tumble in the hay?" Francine said, turning from the pantry. "I hardly see where a girl like Eulalie can get in trouble with a man like Luther."
"This is different. She likes that boy too much. That’s how a body gets herself hurt."
Annalisa found herself pondering Hattie Lee’s words for long moments. "How can it possibly be all right for these women to go to bed for money, and not all right to do the same thing for love?"
"Because," the older woman said patiently, "once you give your heart to a man, you’ve given him the power to hurt you."
"Is that what happened to you?" Annalisa asked softly.
The black woman whirled from the stove and shot her an angry look. "No such thing. Do you think old Hattie Lee would be foolish enough to let a man have power over her?"
Francine left the room, carrying a glass of lemonade. When they were alone, Annalisa said softly, "Some man must have hurt you badly, Hattie Lee."
There was only silence for several minutes. Then, in a barely audible tone, Hattie Lee said, "I’ll live, child."
* * *
"I’ll need the carriage, Luther. When you get the team hitched, would you drive it around to the front porch?" Annalisa asked.
"Yes, ma’am." He straightened from a kneeling position in the parlor, where he was repairing the leg of a chair. Testing it with his weight, he nodded in satisfaction. "Good as new."
"So is everything you touch. You’ve been doing a fine job."
"Thank you." He grinned and picked up his tools. "I’ll have that carriage around front in a few minutes."
When he returned with the team, Annalisa was at the top of the porch waiting. He’d unrolled his sleeves and pulled a wide-brimmed straw hat on his head.
"Why don’t you let me drive you wherever you’re going, Miss Montgomery?" He took her arm and helped her up to the seat.
"I don’t mind, as long as I’m not keeping you from any work."
"Hattie Lee wants me to take a look at a stuck window, but I can take care of it when we get back."
Annalisa nodded and handed him the reins as he climbed up beside her. What had they ever done before Luther arrived on the scene?
"Are we going into town?" he asked, flicking the reins.
"No. I’d like you to drive me to Belle Riviere."
He shot her a sideways glance as they rolled down the curving driveway and out onto the wide avenue.
"A lot of people been showing an interest in Belle Riviere," he said conversationally.
"What people?"
He shrugged. "Bankers, politicians, businessmen."
"How do you know that?"
"I hear things whenever I go to town."
"What kind of things?" She lifted a hand to her bonnet as a breeze tugged at the brim.
"I heard the widow Robichaud is having money problems. And I heard that some people would like her to sell her plantation."
Annalisa’s lips thinned. Not if she had anything to say about it. She had come to a decision about something that had been bothering her for some time now. She knew she had no right to ask the others to join her in her cause. But a small percentage of their profits was hers, to use as she saw fit. She had withdrawn her meager savings.
When their carriage stopped in front of the wide veranda at Belle Riviere, Annalisa was shocked at the shabby condition of the house. The porch steps were sagging. A railing had dropped to the ground, where it was left to rot. Several windows had been broken in the front of the house and the holes had been covered over with pieces of wood.
Climbing the steps, she knocked. A few minutes later she heard the sound of footsteps.
A woman, dressed in a faded black dress, tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear as she pulled open the front door. It groaned on its hinges and hung at a precarious angle.
"Mrs. Robichaud?" The woman nodded, eyeing Annalisa with suspicion. From behind her skirts, four little boys peered at the stranger. The oldest couldn’t have been more than twelve.
"My name is A
nnalisa Montgomery."
The woman said nothing, but the look that came into her eyes told Annalisa that she recognized the name.
Reaching into her pocket, Annalisa withdrew an envelope and held it out. "I heard that your land would have to be sold if you didn’t pay the taxes. There isn’t much here, I’m afraid. Only fifty-three dollars. But I thought if you brought this to the banker as a sign of good faith, he might extend your credit."
The woman’s eyes grew round with surprise, then slowly narrowed again with mistrust.
"Why would you do this for me? We’ve never met."
"I. . ." Annalisa wondered if she could explain what was in her heart. She had never tried to put into words what she felt. "I think you and your children have already paid a terrible price for the war. I think," she said, licking her lips and hoping she wouldn’t say the wrong thing, "that your husband’s soul would rest easy knowing his children will preserve his ancestral land."
The woman stepped out on the porch, and her sons crowded around the doorway. Up close, Annalisa realized she was probably no more than thirty, but her eyes were rimmed with circles, her skin had an unhealthy pallor. Wiping her hand on her apron, she said, "I’m moved by your generous offer, Miss Montgomery. But I can’t accept your money."
"But you must. You can’t let them take this land from you."
"My land is safe. The taxes were paid."
"How? When?"
The woman’s eyes misted over and she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "I was given enough money to pay my debts."
"Who did this?"
The woman shrugged. "I can’t tell you. I don’t know. A package was left in my door. The package contained the money and instructions on how it was to be used. There was no name. But to me, he will always be l’Archange de Miséricorde."
The Archangel of Mercy! Annalisa was stunned. Someone cared. Someone in this town was willing to stop the terrible plunder. Someone had stood up to the crooked politicians and the blatant theft of land.
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