by Bobbi Smith
"Good bye, Slater." Jordan was completely oblivious to the undercurrents of the situation as she stepped out into the hall ahead of Nick. She thought Slater much less threatening in the daylight, and she was pleased that he'd asked her to call him by his first name.
Jordan was very much aware of Nick beside her as they walked down the hall to the stairs. When she'd seen him earlier that morning, he'd left her stammering over her own words. Now, dressed in a dark, fashionably tailored suit with a snowy white shirt, high collar, and a narrow tie, he was even more handsome. He was dressed as well as any of the young men she'd encountered in London, and he cut quite a dashing figure. Obviously he was a man who knew what looked good on him and wore it with style.
Before Jordan let herself get too carried away, she reminded herself firmly of Luther. He too had given the appearance of being quite the man about town, when in fact he was nothing more than a lecherous scoundrel. She couldn't let herself be fooled by Nick's good looks. She knew what he was really like.
"We'll dine here at the hotel," Nick told her as they started down the steps. "The chef is renowned for his cuisine."
"Oh, good," Jordan replied, "I'm famished."
It occurred to Nick then that she hadn't eaten a thing since he'd bought her. "You must be," he agreed. "You should have said something sooner."
"I really haven't been thinking too much about food lately," she confessed. "It was a rough voyage and I was very seasick. Once I began to feel better and wanted to eat something, the meals were barely edible."
"You can make up for it this morning. Order whatever you like from the menu," Nick invited. He was heartfelt in his wish that she enjoy herself, but he also knew he could take this opportunity to judge her tastes.
When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Nick casually put a hand at the small of her back to guide her across the lobby to the dining room. He'd meant the touch to be an impersonal courtesy, but he found himself marveling at how tiny her waist was and how sweetly the curve of her hip fit against his palm.
Jordan was shocked that his simple touch sent waves of awareness through her. The sensation left her bewildered, and she quickened her step a bit just to escape the heated intensity of it.
The dining room was as luxurious as the rest of the hotel; Jordan was impressed. They were seated almost immediately at a table for two covered with a pristine white linen tablecloth and set with service of the finest china. The silverware was polished to a high gleam, and in the center of the table a crystal vase held a small bouquet of brightly colored fragrant flowers. Martin, the tall, dignified, well-dressed black waiter who had served Nick and Slater since their arrival in Mobile, appeared almost magically beside them.
"May I bring you some coffee this morning, Mr. Kane?"
"Jordan?" Nick, not knowing her tastes, looked to her.
"Yes, please," she accepted.
"Two, Martin, thank you," he ordered. He was a bit surprised by Jordan's wanting coffee, and he remarked in a teasing way, "I thought you English girls drank only tea."
"Oh, I enjoy tea, too, but my father introduced me to coffee as a child and I loved it instantly. My mother was scandalized, but she got over it." The happy childhood memory lit up Jordan's face and lent a sparkle to her eyes.
Nick had never seen her looking so radiant, and he was almost mesmerized. "You really haven't told me much about yourself."
There really isn't a lot to tell," she said evasively. Her happiness faded at having to confront the issue of her past.
"Tell me what there is," he encouraged. He told himself he wanted to know only because he had to make up something to tell his father, but actually he was curious about her. She was turning out to be so much more than he'd ever hoped to find.
"Well, my family's from London," she began, taking great care not to lie, but then not to tell the whole truth, either. She had to make sure he didn't make any connection between her and Philip. "My father made a fair living, but we were far from rich. Both my parents died not too long ago, and I was left without funds."
"You didn't have any relatives to take you in? There was no one to help you?" It outraged Nick to think of her all alone and unprotected.
"No..." She thought of Luther's betrayal and where she would have been right now had they not escaped. "There was no one who could help. That's when I heard about indenturing. It seemed an honest way to start a new life for myself. If I'd stayed in London, God only knows how I would have ended up." She shivered in spite of herself as she fought against the terrifying image of an executioner's rope around her neck.
Nick noticed how the light in her eyes had dimmed, to be replaced by something he didn't quite understand ... something that almost looked like sadness. Her vulnerability sent a surge of protectiveness through him, and he instinctively reached across the table to take her hand in a reassuring gesture.
"You don't have to worry any more. You're under my protection now," he told her ardently. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you ever again. I'll see to it."
Jordan looked up, her eyes meeting his. She was torn between what she saw reflected there and what she believed was the real Nick. There was a rock-solid confidence mirrored in the warm brown depths of his gaze that was not arrogance but a firm belief in his own abilities. She wanted to believe him, to trust that he was right, that nothing would ever happen to her again, but she knew he would have little power to help her should the truth of her terrible secret ever come to light.
"Here you are, Mr. Kane," Martin announced with a flourish as he returned with their coffee.
His presence broke the spell that had held them for that fraction of a moment. They were both a little taken back by the intensity of what they'd been feeling and were glad for the distraction.
As the waiter served the coffee he asked, "And here are your menus. Would you like a few minutes to decide?"
"Yes, thank you." Nick watched while Jordan took the proffered menu and quickly scanned its contents. "You read?"
"Yes. My mother taught me."
"So, your mother was an educated woman?"
"Very much so. My father was educated too. Both my parents had a profound love of literature. I know Father planned to write a novel someday, but he never got to it." There was a melancholy note to her voice.
"Did they also teach you how to write?"
"Yes," she answered simply.
His respect for her was growing by leaps and bounds. "I'm impressed and, to be honest with you, I'm relieved."
"Why?"
"There would have been enough time for me to teach you basic etiquette and manners before we got back, but there would never have been enough time for me to teach you to read and write."
"Your father cares about such things?"
"Let's put it this way. Had you not been so well educated, he most certainly would have questioned my choice of a bride."
"Mr. Kane, are you ready to order now?" Martin had again quietly approached, and now stood ready to serve as needed.
"I believe we are. Jordan?" he deferred.
She was thrilled by the selection of food. After the fare on the ship, the items listed sounded like manna to her. "I'd like an omelet with ham and a beignet with strawberries."
"Yes, ma'am."
Nick quickly followed with his own order, and then, when the waiter had gone, he turned his attention back to Jordan. She was an enigma, and as such she was becoming more and more intriguing to him with each passing moment. Not only could she read and write, but her manners were impeccable and she was familiar with French cuisine.
Jordan saw the questioning look in his eyes and wished she'd been smart enough to allow him to order for her. It was too late to worry about it now, but she knew she had to put his interest in her past to rest. "Though he was only a bookkeeper, my father always had a taste for the finer things in life," she said quickly. "French cuisine was one of them. My mother and I used to spend hours in the kitchen trying out new dishes we thought he might like."
&nb
sp; "So you're a good cook, too?"
"I like to think so, but I won't make any claims until I've had the chance to fix a meal for you."
Though her remark was made in the course of general conversation, there was something intimate about it.
"I'll be looking forward to it," Nick replied, his gaze darkening.
Jordan felt a little uncomfortable under his steady regard, and she wanted to direct the conversation away from herself. "Well, now that you know all about me, tell me about Louisiana and your home."
"Louisiana is beautiful and so is Riverwood."
"Riverwood?"
"My home. It's a plantation on the Mississippi River."
"It sounds grand."
"It is big," he stated without bragging. "The main house has twenty-five rooms, and we own quite a bit of land, too. We grow mostly sugar and cotton, and we've invested quite a lot in our stables."
Jordan heard the pride in his voice and realized just how important his home was to him. "You obviously love your home..."
"Very much so."
"And your father... What do you intend to tell him about me?"
"As little as possible," he responded. "I need to come up with a story my father will accept. I can't very well tell him I bought you on the docks in Mobile."
"What do you suggest?"
"I came here on business. It's probably safest to let my father think I met you at a social gathering through a mutual acquaintance. We'll say a Mr. Harrison, he'll believe that..."
Though Jordan knew that what Nick proposed was ultimately for her own good too, her disappointment in him deepened. He was lucky enough to have his father still with him, and yet here he was concentrating only on winning his inheritance, instead of doting on him and loving him while there was still time. She would have given anything to have her father back. She'd loved him dearly, and she missed him terribly even after all this time.
"What if he questions me about my past?"
"Tell him the truth when you can. Just say that after your parents died, Harrison offered you the opportunity to come here, and you decided to accept since there was nothing left to hold you in England. Once you got to Mobile, it was by a pure stroke of luck that we met..." Nick paused to give her a considering look. "It was truly a matter of good fortune. I usually only travel to Mobile once or twice a year at the most."
"It was lucky for the both of us," she agreed, "and I'll do my best to convince your father that we fell in love at first sight."
"He won't believe anything else, given the time involved. I can delay our return for another week, but no more than that."
Martin arrived with their food just as Nick finished speaking and carefully set the steaming delicacies before them. "Will there be anything else?"
"Not now, Martin. Thanks,"
As Nick ate of his own more manly fare of steak, eggs, and sweet potato biscuits, he surreptitiously watched Jordan take a small ladylike taste of her beignet. Her expression seemed to turn almost rapturous, and she ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip to make sure she hadn't missed a crumb. When she glanced up to find his eyes upon her, she blushed a bit.
"I hope I'm not making a spectacle of myself, it's just that it's delicious," she confided with an innocent glee that struck him as almost childlike.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it."
"Would you like a taste?"
"Yes..." he answered, feeling enthralled as her shining eyes held him captive.
Jordan broke off a bit and offered it to him on her fork. Her gaze never left his as she gently fed him the morsel. There was something about his reaction that sent a slow burning heat throbbing through her, and she watched, entranced, as he slowly chewed the delectable bite.
"You're right... It is very special..." Nick murmured, not quite sure whether he was talking about her or the food.
The strange sensations that were filling Jordan left her suddenly very nervous. She looked away and tried to concentrate solely on her food.
Nick, too, devoted his full attention to his meal, but he couldn't help but steal an occasional look at Jordan. For some reason, he felt as if she weren't quite real, as if she were a figment of his imagination. Everything about her was feminine and ladylike. She displayed none of the coarseness he'd originally feared when he first saw her. He meant it sincerely when he told her it had been a matter of good fortune that he'd found her. She was the answer to his prayers...
Noticing that she'd cleaned her plate, he smiled. "I see you enjoyed the food."
"The chef was as wonderful as you said he was," she said, giving him a contrite smile. "I'm afraid I made quite a pig of myself, but it was so delicious that I couldn't bear to let any of it go to waste."
Her grin was so infectious that he was completely charmed. He smiled back at her.
"I'm just glad you enjoyed it, and if you want anything else, you have only to ask."
"Oh, no," she laughed lightly, putting a hand on her stomach. "I doubt that I'll eat again for days."
"I'll bet you're hungry again by dinner."
"You're probably right," she laughed again.
"Well, it will be more than my pleasure to satisfy your appetite at any time of day or night..." Nick didn't realize how his statement sounded until after he'd said it.
Being the innocent she was, Jordan completely missed his double-entendre. "You may be leaving yourself open for trouble."
"I'll take my chances."
"My parents often teased that I probably could have eaten my weight at every meal if they hadn't stopped me."
"You're hardly bigger than a mite. I'm not worried," he commented, his gaze upon her slender form. Then realizing the direction his thoughts were taking, he quickly changed the subject. "We'd better get going, if you're sure you're done."
"Yes."
After signaling Martin for the check and signing for it, Nick rose from the table and assisted Jordan from her chair. "The dressmaker is expecting us."
Eleanor Marsh was a cheerful, rotund, silver-haired woman with a great sense of fashion and the uncanny ability to determine instantly what would look good on a woman. Years before, when her husband had passed away leaving her with three small children to raise and no income to speak of, she'd set about making her living with a needle and thread. It had been difficult in the beginning, but somehow she'd managed.
Eleanor's philosophy of her work was simple. She believed that each and every woman had her strong points, and all that had to be done was to identify and highlight them through color and style. As word of her expertise had spread, she'd turned her gift into a very successful business. Women from miles around came to her shop, clamoring for her services, and she'd always been happy to oblige. One of her greatest joys in life was to see a dowdy, poorly dressed woman transformed into a social delight merely by altering her wardrobe. It was her calling, and she did it with great joy.
Eleanor had just finished a final fitting and was bidding her customer good-bye when Nick and Jordan entered her shop. Her first impression was that they were a most striking couple. The man was tall and undeniably attractive, and he moved with the easy grace of a man most sure of himself. He was the kind of male who could stir the heart of many a woman, and Eleanor was impressed. It wasn't often that someone as good-looking as he was came into her shop. Her gaze swept over Jordan next, and she couldn't help but despair. As lovely as the young woman was, the dress she was wearing was hideous. Eleanor wondered what addled creature had selected her clothes for her.
"Good morning," she said in welcome. "I'm Mrs. Marsh. Can I help you with anything today?"
"I'm Dominic Kane and this is my fiancee, Jordan Douglas."
"How do you do?"
"Jordan's just arrived from England, and unfortunately, most of her clothing was ruined during the voyage. She's in dire need of a complete new wardrobe," he told her.
That explains it, Eleanor thought, relieved to know that the young woman's current state was not her normal one.
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br /> "What exactly did you have in mind?" She allowed Nick to lead the conversation, for although he looked the prosperous businessman, there was no way of knowing for sure just how well-lined his pockets were.
"I want only the best of everything for Jordan. We heard you were the most talented couturiere in town, and so we came here."
"Thank you," Eleanor responded with pride and pleasure. "I enjoy my work. It's more a labor of love than drudgery. There is no greater thrill than seeing a woman looking her best."
"I agree," Nick said, his eyes warm upon Jordan.
"Please, come this way. I have a sitting area here, where you can relax while you go through the latest sketches from Godey's Once you've chosen the ones you like best we'll work from there."
At Eleanor's direction, Jordan and Nick sat on a small overstuffed loveseat and began sorting through the pictures spread out on the low table before them.
Nick was a man on a mission. He wanted Jordan to be dressed to perfection. He cared little for the cost. The only trouble was, having had no women in his life since his mother died, he wasn't quite sure what the task entailed.
The sketches of the dresses and gowns, Nick found, were no problem. As they quickly went through the drawings, he instinctively recognized what would look good on Jordan and ordered them without hesitation. He selected daygowns, traveling suits, and several different ballgowns, all in a variety of colors and fabrics that he knew would grace her beauty. One fancy gown in particular caught Nick's eye, and he knew he had to have it for her. It was a full-skirted, off-the-shoulder creation with puff sleeves and low-cut bodice. Done in emerald satin to match her eyes, it would be simply stunning on her.
"You're absolutely right. It will look beautiful," Eleanor agreed with real enthusiasm.
Jordan was hesitant to say anything as she listened to all that was going on. The more Nick ordered, the more amazed she became. Her wardrobe had been adequate when her parents were alive. She'd had one rather ordinary ballgown and enough daydresses to meet her needs. She had expected Nick to select about the same amount. His generosity was proving startling, and she wondered if she would ever have occasion to wear so many different styles and colors.