Anna shook her head. “You need to get warm. Do not worry about a thing.”
“I told you, she is thrilled to have the company to wait upon,” Mathias said to her before turning back to the conversation at the table.
Well at least I’m not completely invisible, Emilie thought as she sank into a comfortable chair to the right of the fireplace and inched her sore feet toward the fire.
Like she promised, Anna returned with a smile and a glass. Emilie looked up to find it resembling what the men were drinking. Before she could inquire, Anna placed a finger to her lips. “Something to warm you as well.”
Emilie sank deeper into the chair and sipped the brandy, thankful for the kind hospitality. It felt good to be warm again, even if Lorenz’s refusal to speak to her continued to chill her heart.
“So you are Acadian as well?” Mathias asked Lorenz after enjoying a long, stiff drink.
“Oui, monsiuer,” Lorenz answered. “I am Acadian.”
The stout man laughed. “For how long?”
Lorenz appeared confused. “I don’t understand, monsieur.”
Mathias refilled their glasses. “First, you must call me Mathias. Second, you must realize we are a colony of many nations. I, for instance, am the son of a German, whose name was Friedrich. The French called us Frédéric and we learned their language. Just when we thought we were French, the Spanish arrived. I’m beginning to think that perhaps if I live long enough I shall be German once more.”
Lorenz smiled at his good-naturedness. He liked this man. Mathias was the first non-Acadian resident to offer good cheer and hospitality since their arrival in Louisiana.
“Be that it may, we are still Acadians, despite our entrance into this Spanish territory,” Phillip said.
“Do you consider yourself subjects of France then?” Mathias asked.
Philip and Lorenz looked at each other, wondering how to answer that question. They were Acadians, subject to no one but themselves. They had been Acadians in Nova Scotia a century before the English arrived, self-sufficient from their mother country.
“We are French, monsieur,” Phillip began, “because we came to the New World from France. But we have lived in Acadie, our own country in Canada, since before the founding of Jamestown.
“We had a fairly good relationship with the English when they took over Acadie in my father’s time,” Philip continued, “but I don’t consider myself English simply because I was born in Nova Scotia when the English governed it.”
“But you are in Louisiana now,” Mathias said. “Which crown do you serve?”
Phillip gazed into his glass and was silent for several moments. When he looked up again, his eyes held a deep sadness. “I despise the English for robbing us of our homes and shipping us throughout the colonies, the Caribbean and Europe. I resent the French for neglecting us in our time of need and ignoring us in our exile. And I am angry at the Spanish for welcoming us into this territory, then forcing us away from our families and friends. I have had the good fortune of settling in Cabannocé, but recent Acadian refugees have been forced to settle upriver first at St. Gabriel, now at Natchez. It seems that every nationality is determine to scatter us every which way.”
A silence hung over the room until finally Mathias spoke. “Do you not hold an allegiance to any nationality then?”
Again, the two men gazed at each other, and Emilie wondered what answer Lorenz or Phillip would give. They were distinctly French, but stubbornly Acadian, and this was not an easy concept to understand.
“What do you think, Emilie?”
Emilie nearly dropped her glass when she realized Lorenz was speaking to her. She looked up to find three pairs of eyes waiting for her answer and found herself elated to be included.
“I believe we will always be Acadians,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll get used to the Spanish in time, as they will get used to us. Perhaps we will call ourselves Louisianans too. But I think we will always be Acadians.”
“And why is that, mademoiselle?” Mathias asked.
Emilie turned in her seat to better face the men, glad to have their attention at last. “Our ancestors carved a nation out of the Canadian wilderness by cooperating with each other and with the natives. Over time, it caused us to establish our own culture, our own identity. We’re not like other French now. And because we have been exiled from our homes, we will fight to retain our identity so our children will never forget our homeland, our culture, our traditions.”
Lorenz offered an appreciative smile, signaling to Emilie he agreed. They had always been able to speak volumes to each other with merely a glance. She smiled back at him, but he frowned and looked away.
Mathias stared off into the flames of the fire, considering what Emilie had spoken. Then he looked up, smiled and refilled their drinks. “To the German-Acadian Coast then,” he said, lifting his glass in another toast. “And this territory of nations, whatever yours might be.”
The men raised their glasses in a salute, but Lorenz turned and hoisted his glass toward her. Emilie returned the toast and felt a million times brighter seeing the semblance of a sparkle in his dark black eyes. Even though Lorenz turned back toward the men and they continued talking without her, that simple gesture warmed her heart, informing her that their friendship was a long way from ending.
“You asked her again, didn’t you?” Phillip quizzed Lorenz with a grin. They had eaten their fill of a hearty dinner, then retired to one of the two back rooms the Frédérics kept for travelers and visiting relatives. “You don’t give up.”
Lorenz wasn’t particularly eager to talk about his second marriage rejection within a month’s time, but it was a relief to have a confidante. “It doesn’t make sense,” he told Phillip. “She says no but her eyes tell me something else.”
Phillip grinned wider and placed an arm about Lorenz’s shoulders. “Forget the words and the eyes, my boy. What that girl needs is a good kissing.”
Lorenz had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. Nothing else was working. Under ordinary circumstances, they would have courted, he visiting her house, taking her for walks, talking with her while her parents sat nearby serving as chaperons. But they hadn’t lived under ordinary circumstances since they were children.
Besides, he couldn’t picture himself courting Emilie in the traditional sense. He was practically family. Marianne had welcomed him into the Gallant family after his parents’ deaths and raised him as her own. Rose and Gabrielle had been the greatest of sisters. So how was he to formally court a woman he had lived with for thirteen years? She had stroked his head and sang soothing songs while he grieved for his parents, helped him steal a basket of blueberries from the Jesuit priests in Maryland, gave him his first glimpse of a woman’s leg when she refused to be left behind while the men picked apples on the branches of trees. Their lives were extraordinary, and courting seemed a useless, frivolous custom.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Lorenz said, thinking back on what a shapely leg Emilie possessed. Not to mention the sweeping curves gracing the rest of her tall, voluptuous body. “Maybe I am going about this the wrong way.”
Having pulled down the blankets of his bed, Philip quickly threw off his clothes and jumped inside the covers. He put his hands behind his head and sent Lorenz a sly smile. “Why don’t you go see how lovely Emilie is doing?”
Emilie’s chamber was next to theirs, two rustic rooms extending off from the house, perpendicular to the back gallery. From the look of the room’s contents, the Frédérics used them for housing tools and food supplies when relatives were not in town.
“I really should go and see if she has everything she needs,” Lorenz said, trying not to sound eager.
Phillip nodded, playing the game well. “You do that.”
Lorenz tightened his jacket about his chest and slipped out to the back gallery. He was immediately greeted by a blast of cold air biting down from the direction of the river. Rain appeared imminent, more than likely followed by more f
rigid weather. He thought to return to the semi-warmth of his room, but he noticed a light under Emilie’s threshold. Lorenz knocked lightly.
“Who is it?”
Lorenz almost laughed. Who else would it be? “It’s your footman, mademoiselle. Shall I get the cariole ready for your trip tomorrow? Or would you prefer to travel by ship?”
The door swung open and Emilie stood before him in her nightdress, her reddish brown hair a cascade of curls about her broad shoulders. Her woolen nightdress concealed plenty, but Lorenz could make out the shape of her ample breasts by the rapid rise and fall of her breath, which seemed accentuated by his presence. When he gazed into the hazel eyes he had adored for years, he found a light shining in them. She was glad to see him, glad to know he still cared.
He couldn’t help grinning at her eager face and she answered him with a tentative smile. Despite his logical mind warning him not to tread into dangerous emotional territory, Lorenz broke down the wall guarding his heart and entered her room. Then while he kicked the door closed, Lorenz slipped an arm about her waist, drew her tight against him and placed his desirous lips on hers.
Emilie
Chapter Four
One minute Emilie stood in the doorway, glad to see Lorenz back on friendly terms, the next minute his lips were hot upon hers. By the time she realized what had transpired, Lorenz had pulled her tight against his chest, deepening the kiss and literally taking her breath away.
She knew she should push him off. This was improper and against her wishes and better judgment. But oh he tasted delicious. His kisses were like that night on the ship, hot and wild and mysterious. The sensations coursing through her body felt like riding the forty-foot tidal surge that raged through Minas Basin at Grand Pré.
Emilie decided to enjoy the ride. She leaned her head to gain better access to his demanding lips and raised her hands to thread them through the thick locks of his midnight hair. When her hands reached the curls lingering at his collar, Lorenz groaned and pulled her harder against his broad chest.
“Oh Em,” he whispered as his lips began an exploratory trail across her cheeks, beneath her earlobe and down the soft reaches of her neck. “I have dreamt of this moment for years.”
Emilie had to admit she had always wondered what it would be like to kiss Lorenz, to experience their bodies close together. She slid a hand down the length of his back, savoring the strong, thick muscles located there while her other hand stroked his magnificent hair, so wild and untamed, a mirror of himself. He felt good. Magnificently good.
When Lorenz claimed her lips again, he urged them apart and slipped his tongue inside. At first Emilie jolted at the intrusion, but when his tongue met hers she could have sworn she heard herself moan. A spasm passed through her, melting her insides, all the while creating a heightened sense of something undeniably new and thrilling. She knew then she wanted more of this lovemaking, even though they were treading on dangerous territory.
Lorenz must have thought the same thing, for he drew away slightly and rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in rapid succession. When she looked into those haunting black eyes, they were glazed with desire. Emilie wondered if hers revealed the same longing.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” she asked him.
Lorenz answered with his trademark lazy smile while the deep recesses of his eyes twinkled. “From you. In the barn behind Paul LeBlanc’s house.”
They were so close Emilie could see every detail of his ruggedly handsome face: the sharp lines of his chin, her long regal nose, the way the hairs at his ears curled ever so slightly and the fullness of his lips which had brought her so much pleasure. Without thinking, Emilie placed a hand on to his cheek and brushed her thumb across those hot, insistent lips. Lorenz instantly placed a hand over hers and captured her thumb with his mouth, pulling it inside where his tongue gently circled the tip. The sensation that simple gesture caused made her knees weaken. “I was only eight when you kissed me in the barn,” she said feebly, hoping to focus on anything but what his tongue and lips were doing to her fingers. “I’d say you’ve learned a lot since then.”
Lorenz pulled her hand away and placed it at his waist. Then he placed his hands at her waist and drew them closer. This time, she wasn’t being held tightly against his chest. Now, other parts of her body were rubbing his. “Why don’t we learn it together?” he whispered so fervently Emilie shivered.
She knew she should demand he leave her room, but Lorenz’s kisses were like a taste of candy: one sample and it was hard to quit, every taste better than the last. She wanted to see what else Lorenz had learned since their childish kiss in the barn.
Lorenz didn’t disappoint. He met her lips again with a fever. He pressed the small of her back so that their bodies merged at the hip and in that instant Emilie knew every ounce of Lorenz’s desires. What was even more surprising were the hot sensations emerging in the feminine recesses of her own body. This time, she parted her lips further and Lorenz took the bait. His kisses were wild, his tongue probing deeper, his teeth nipping on her bottom lip.
Just when Emilie thought she would abandon all defenses, Lorenz drew back, gazed one more time into her eyes and placed a wild strand of hair behind her ear. “Good-night Em,” he whispered and quickly exited the room.
Emilie stared at the door as if a gale force wind had suddenly blown through her room then died altogether. She placed a hand upon her chest to try to stabilize her breathing. Then she remembered her weakened knees and sat down.
What had just happened? she wondered.
She almost became angry, envisioning herself a victim of a man vindictive after being spurned, teasing her with lovemaking only to reject her as she had rejected him. But those kisses were anything but retaliatory. He had been as excited as she was. Was he scared of what might transpire or hoping to set a spark that would linger and burn into a flame? If the latter was true, he had succeeded. Emilie wanted more. Much more.
Suddenly cold and shivering, Emilie climbed into bed and pulled the blankets tight against her chin. She extinguished the candle and lay back against her pillow, staring up into the intense darkness. Outside the rain pelted the house and the wind howled through every hole in the wall and next door she could hear Lorenz entering his room and climbing into his own bed. What was he thinking at this moment? she wondered. Was his heart beating as fast as hers?
Emilie could still feel the heat on her neckline and face where his kisses had touched her skin. Her lips felt swollen and bruised. And places she never realized would react to a man’s touch still tingled from the experience.
“What do I do now?” she asked no one, wishing her mother and sisters were nearby for advice. Mother would know what to do, she thought, and Gabrielle would understand Lorenz’s mind. Rose would be optimistic that there was a solution to every problem, even though Emilie doubted there was an answer to this one.
The thought of her family equally cold traveling upriver in an open boat or sleeping inside a frigid Spanish fort only made Emilie sadder. Suddenly, she felt incredibly alone.
Emilie turned on her side and hugged her pillow. When times were dreary, Rose would sing them all a soft, romantic song, sometimes stroking Emilie’s hair until she fell asleep. If only her family were with her now, Emilie wouldn’t feel so confused and depressed. They would tell her what to do, explain how to react to Lorenz and his insistent demands to be married.
As a myriad emotions fought within her, Emilie gently touched her lips and thought how nice it would be if Lorenz was lying next to her, touching them himself.
“This is not acceptable,” Joseph Braud announced. “This country is not habitable.”
Rose watched as Pedro Piernas cringed and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. They had been in the fort at Natchez for less than a week, housed in the upper story of the barracks and given liberal use of the fort’s kitchen. No one at the fort had better quarters than the Acadians. Yet, daily the exiles vo
iced their disapproval to the Spanish commandant.
“The land is perfectly fit for settlement,” Piernas returned. “Not only have I and Governor Ulloa deemed it good land for farming, but one of your own has inspected the land and said so.”
“There are better lands,” Joseph countered. “Ones closer to New Orleans.”
Rose had joined the men when they inspected the land surrounding the fort and found it quite habitable, but she knew the majority of the settlers wanted to be closer to the other Acadian refugees. Nothing Piernas would say would make them feel otherwise and they would find every excuse to convince him to send them downriver to St. Gabriel.
“Send three of us to New Orleans, let us talk to the governor,” Joseph demanded. “Give us some boats and men and let us have a chance to present our case.”
Piernas stared at his feet, an aggravated look upon his face. Rose wondered if he would agree to let the three men travel to New Orleans to be rid of the hotheads. Joseph Braud and two other men had taken it upon themselves to keep defensive feelings high. Every time the Acadians began to settle in to their surroundings, Joseph and the other men incited them to rebel. Rose was as tired of the complaining as Piernas, even though she wanted nothing more than to be reunited with her father at St. Gabriel.
Suddenly, Piernas looked her way as if he remembered something, staring hard first at her and Gabrielle, then their mother.
“I will grant you this request,” he said, turning back towards the men. “You will take three of my smallest boats and I will give you men and provisions. You have forty-five days to travel to New Orleans and back. I will draw up the papers now.”
Piernas moved to leave the room, but stopped where Rose and her mother stood. “Madame Gallant, I wish to speak with you and your daughters, s’il vous plait.”
Marianne nodded and Piernas left the room for his private quarters. When she turned toward Gabrielle and Rose, she reached out her hands for comfort.
Emilie (The Cajun Series Book 1) Page 5