Kane (30 page)

Kane made a sound between a snort and a sigh. “I
might have known. I've never seen a woman like her for making things difficult.”

“I'd say you're pretty fair at that yourself.”

“You could be right. I seem to have made a mess of things.”

“Nothing that can't be straightened out,” the older man allowed, then added, “Of course, you have to have the nerve for it.”

There was no answer from Kane for long seconds, though Regina strained her ears to hear. She began to work once more at the coffin's closure.

“I don't think it will work,” he objected finally. “I did everything except call Regina a prostitute in public.”

Mr. Lewis made a sound of agreement. “I thought you'd gone plumb crazy for a while, until I figured out what you were doing. You were setting the record straight, weren't you? Making it crystal clear that whatever she had done was because she was forced into it. You cut off the gossips at the knees.”

Regina blinked, then stared wide-eyed into the coffin's darkness as she realized what Mr. Lewis was saying. It put a different perspective on the interrogation she had endured.

“The only trouble,” Kane said grimly, “is that I cut myself out of the game at the same time.”

“You went a little far, I'll admit that.”

“I know.” Kane's voice retreated as if he'd moved away in the direction of the window. “But there she was, under oath, at my mercy. It was more than I could resist.”

“So you made her say what you wanted to hear. But you couldn't do a damn thing about it, there in public, without jeopardizing the case, giving the other
side the chance to yell collusion between you and the witness. You should have thought of that before you started.”

He certainly should have, Regina thought. At the same time, she worked frantically at the latch.

“I did think about it. It just seemed worth whatever it might cost to know, once and for all, what it had meant to her. I was afraid that if I missed that chance, there might never be another one.”

“Now you know. So what are you going to do?”

“I thought if I could see her this morning, talk to her, there might be a chance.”

It was then that the latch clicked open. Regina shoved the lid away from her face with such force it flew back on its hinges and thudded against the wall behind it. Jackknifing to a sitting position, she turned at the waist to stare at the two men.

“Of all the arrogant, underhanded tricks I've ever heard, this one really takes the cake,” she said in strained vehemence. “I can't believe anybody would do such a thing.”

Kane whipped around. “Regina! I can explain.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, “I'm talking to your grandfather.”

“To Pops?” Kane glanced at the older man who was trying to look innocent in spite of the amusement in his eyes.

“Exactly. Mr. Lewis Crompton, the so-called gentleman who lured me here under false pretenses and probably did the same to you with Betsy's help. He had Dora keep my son busy, tried to bribe me into sticking around with a piece of antique jewelry, then he inveigled me into hiding in this stupid coffin again while he conned you into making your case so I could
hear it. It wouldn't surprise me one bit to learn he had some scheme in mind to see we wound up in this thing together again!”

Kane looked at his grandfather. “That right?”

“Guilty,” Mr. Lewis said without visible remorse beyond a hunching of his shoulders. “I had the best of intentions, I swear. I've never seen a pair who belonged together quite as much as you two.”

“You really had some plan for getting us back together in that coffin?”

“Crossed my mind,” the older man mumbled.

“Let's hear it.”

“What?” Mr. Lewis gave him a startled stare.

“What?” Regina did the same before glancing at Kane.

“I want to know how he was going to get me back in that coffin,” Kane said with a wicked gleam lurking in the blue of his eyes.

“Well now,” his grandfather allowed as he rubbed the side of his nose, “I'd thought I might give you a hint that I'd finally found a use for this old coffin of mine, maybe whisper real low to you who was in it. Then I'd tiptoe off, go see if Dora has another piece or two of gingerbread in the kitchen or something. Sort of like—well, just about like this.” He eased away as he spoke, then turned and walked quickly from the room.

Kane gave a low laugh and shook his head. Then he stalked to the coffin, climbed up in a quick movement, and shoved Regina unceremoniously to one side as he got in. Reaching for her, he lay back and pulled her into his arms.

“What do you think you're doing?” she asked dan
gerously as she struggled upward again to prop herself on one elbow.

“Finding out how we'll fit together about, oh, say, seventy or eighty years from now when they bury us side by side.” He lifted his arm to cradle the back of her head, then pulled her elbow from under her and settled her securely against him.

As she shifted a little to find a more comfortable position, she asked, “And what makes you think I might be interested?”

His voice beguiling but rich with satisfaction, he answered, “That, my heart, is a matter of public record.”

So it was. It was useless, then, to deny it.

With some asperity, she said, “You know, it seems to me you have a thing about wooden boxes. First this coffin, then the duck blind.”

“Can I help it if you're too hard to pin down any other way?”

“You did an excellent job in court,” she returned tartly.

“Witness box,” he said with mock complacency. “When I find a good thing, I run with it.”

She laughed; she couldn't help it. His body was warm and strong against her. In his hold was security, encompassing peace, and the slow rise of heady promise. It wasn't easy to remember why she was supposed to doubt his intentions. In something less than complete coherence, she said, “I can't believe the things you do, and get away with, too. But we can't stay shut up in a box forever.”

“No, but if I can't lie with you like this through all eternity, I want to do it the rest of my days. I want to live my life with you, making up every second for all
the ways that I've hurt you. I want to marry you, to tie you so tightly into my family and this town that you can never get away. I want you to have my children and to love them as you love your Stephan, to let them share your heart with your son as he will share mine. I love you, Regina Dalton, and as strange as it may sound, expect to love you even after we are both long gone and buried. Will you let me?”

It was completely impossible, she found, to stay properly irritated with a man who was proposing such a lasting future together. Still, the thought of his grandmother, who had proven to have a love very similar, drifted through her mind. “Is this preoccupation with graveyards and eternal togetherness some Southern family thing I should know about?”

“Could be,” he answered on the ghost of a laugh. “What do you think?”

“It's strange, but I believe I just might fit into the program.”

He kissed her, quick and fierce and gloriously. Then he reached up and began to lower the coffin lid.

“What are you doing?” she asked in tingling suspicion.

“Testing,” he said, his voice gravelly in his throat.

She studied his face in the increasing dark just before the latch clicked into place, then asked in last, lingering doubt, “Not testing me?”

“No, love, only possibilities.”

“Of love in the hereafter?”

“Now what,” he growled against her ear as he pulled her closer, “ever gave you such a weird idea?”

Dear Reader,

It's my great pleasure to introduce
Kane,
the first book in a series about the Benedict clan of Turn-Coupe, Louisiana. Though the people and the place exist only in my imagination, they are as real to me as if I've known them all my life—or could have been related to them, since I'm a seventh generation Louisianian. This warm affection is the reason I've established them at the heart of my Turn-Coupe trilogy.

The fictional Benedict clan is a family whose history dates back to the earliest days of Louisiana. One branch has a Native American bloodline, another admits to Scots progenitors, while others include French or Spanish forebears in their family trees. Using these various ethnic backgrounds, I expect to explore the rich blend of cultures that is so vital an aspect of modern Louisiana. I also want to include something of the architectural diversity of my home state by giving each family line a different type of dwelling to go with their cultural history, from the grand neoclassical Greek temple so familiar as a symbol of the antebellum South, to a West Indies mansion, or maybe even a big dogtrot log house indicative of backwoods Louisiana. The common thread binding these different dwellings together will be their location on a beautiful lake which segues into a swamp: the name, Horseshoe Lake, is borrowed from a body of water that figured large in family vacations when I was a child.

The books about the Benedict clan will carry as titles the names of their heroes. This is in keeping with another of my goals, which is to explore the many sides of that mythical being, the Southern gentleman. The heroes of these books, then, will be men who embody all the virtues and faults of that fine breed, men who are slow-
talking but fast to resent an insult, who never start a fight but end many, who are easygoing yet hard-loving, and who hide deep emotions behind their devil-may-care smiles. Above all, they will be men of honor. The heroes of these books have begun to live and breathe for me, lounging around my desk and bending over my shoulder to point out my errors. If I don't succeed in capturing their essence, the fault is not theirs but mine.

Food is such an integral part of the mystique of Southern hospitality that it's virtually impossible to leave it out of a story set in the region. Two recipes are mentioned in
Kane,
then, one for fig cake and the other for a fruit dip to be served with fresh strawberries. For those who may be interested in a taste of the South, here are:

FIG CAKE

Grease and flour a 9½ x 13" baking pan. Preheat oven to 350°F. Sift dry ingredients, including sugar and spices. Add eggs, oil and buttermilk. Mix thoroughly. Add vanilla, fig preserves. Mix until figs are chopped into the batter, some chunks may remain, according to taste. Fold in nuts as desired. Bake until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. The traditional fig preserves of the South are made with Celeste figs, an old-fashioned, candy-sweet variety that turns a dark brown when preserved. With the addition of the spices, they give the cake a distinctive dark mahogany color.

CARAMEL FROSTING (optional)

Place 1 cup sugar in a heavy saucepan and caramelize slowly over low heat until it turns brown. In a separate pan dissolve milk and remaining 1 cup sugar thoroughly, then bring to a boil. Add caramelized sugar. Cook, stirring constantly, until a soft ball forms in cold water. Place butter in a separate bowl and pour hot mixture over it. Stir. Add vanilla, cream and pecans until spreading consistency.

FRUIT DIP

In a mixer, combine all ingredients until smooth. Serve with fresh fruit—good with melons and strawberries.

I hope you enjoy the recipes—and also the first of my three Southern gentlemen,
Kane.
If you have comments, please write to me at PO Box 9218, Quitman, LA 71268, or via [email protected]

Warmest regards,

If you liked this novel, look for these other titles by Jennifer Blake always available in eBook format:

The Louisiana Gentlemen:

Kane

Luke

Roan

Clay

Wade

Masters at Arms:

Challenge to Honor

Dawn Encounter

Rogue's Salute

Guarded Heart

Gallant Match

Garden of Scandal