Wild legacy (26 page)

easily be a worse companion than Sean O'Keefe. "If I did, it was a very long time ago," she explained absently.

"The man tried to kill me," Byron announced with clear disgust. He moved to his wife's side and caressed her shoulder.

"Oh no!" Belle cried.

Not alarmed, Falcon squeezed her hand. "Obviously, he didn't succeed."

"No, thank God, he didn't," Byron concurred. "But Etienne looks so much like Gaetan, I would have recognized him as his son anywhere. Well, he will soon be gone, so let's not mention the matter again."

Arielle nodded, but she still felt uneasy. The past had a strange way of resurfacing at the most peculiar times, but Etienne had been so respectful and polite she hated to blame him for his father's jealousies. "He seemed to be a very nice young man."

Belle caught the deeper meaning in her mother's comment. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked her mother.

"Perhaps. But it is really too soon for Dominique to take an interest in another man."

Falcon laughed out loud at that opinion. "Surely she has wrung the last tear from her tragic encounter with Sean. I'll bet money that she'll join us for supper tonight, and treat our guest with so much charm he won't be able to tell us what he ate."

"Her sorrow has been sincere," Belle argued. "You can't believe that it wasn't."

Falcon started for the door. "Who's to say with Dominique? I'll see what help Beau needs with the presents. Why don't you help your sister get dressed?"

"No. I'm coming with you." Belle caught Falcon's hand as they passed through the doorway, and continued to argue her sister's cause.

Byron drew his wife to her feet and kissed her soundly.

"Do you remember the first time we made love in Acadia? You'd gone to gather herbs after church, and I followed."

Some memories would always remain vivid, and Arielle smiled seductively as she slid her arms around his waist. "How could I ever forget? It was when Beau was conceived."

Byron hugged her more tightly. "Is that the only reason you recall that blissful afternoon?"

Arielle reached up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Come upstairs with me before supper, and I'll show you precisely what I recall."

Eagerly accepting her invitation, Byron laughed and scooped her up in his arms. He marveled that his slender bride of more than twenty years enchanted him still, and carried her up to their room to refresh their memories before they had to resume their roles as responsible parents at supper.

Alone in her room, Dominique sat at her windowseat and looked down toward the James River. Beau would not leave the beautiful Virginia Belle tied up at their docks for more than a day or two; and then he would go back to sea to continue confounding the trade of British merchantmen. How she wished she could sail with him! He would never agree to having a woman on board, nor would her parents allow her to accompany him, but it was a tempting thought.

She watched Beau and Etienne talking on the dock. The sun shone on the Frenchman's thick curls with the same ebony fire that caught Falcon's, but she drew no parallels between the two young men. There had been a time when such an attractive guest would have delighted her, but no more. Now she saw only a man like any other, and he caused not a ripple in the lake of sorrow that still threatened to drown her.

a teasing exchange between Falcon and Belle, and at last recalled that Alanna had told him to sleep at Christian's home on his last visit. He had left rather than do so, and in the excitement of having Belle and Dominique home, the order had been forgotten. Of course, he and Belle were engaged now, but in her mind that fact had merely magnified, rather than solved, the original problem.

"What is the matter with Dominique?" Beau asked, abruptly interrupting his mother's train of thought.

Because Etienne would overhear whatever she said, Arielle simply shook her head, but at the close of the meal, Beau drew her aside when the others left for the parlor. Arielle recounted Belle and Dominique's adventure very briefly, but she could see just how badly she had shocked her elder son. "It is absurd, is it not?" she asked. "The one time Dominique truly fell in love, it was with a man she could not have. I imagine he is as heartbroken as she, but fortunately we do not also have to listen to him weep."

Having his little sisters run away astounded Beau, but Dominique in a romance with Sean O'Keefe was unimaginable. "I can't believe any of this actually happened," he complained, "and don't know what to make of it. I really thought Dominique would like Etienne, but she wouldn't even talk to him."

Arielle did not wish to encourage her son's matchmaking, but recalled when Byron had first come to Grand Pre, she had not wanted to speak with him, either. "It's best not to meddle in affairs of the heart. Now, what about you? Will you have time to call on any of the lovely young women here in Williamsburg?"

Beau had a quick answer for her. "No." He looked very much like his father had at his age, and with his fair hair and blue eyes women always regarded him as remarkably handsome, but his life was far too dangerous at present to permit him to court a sweetheart. "Wait until after the war," he promised his mother, "and then I'll call on them all."

"Yes. I imagine you will." They entered the parlor arm in arm, and for an hour or two at least, the war was forgotten in fond memories of home. Beau intended to sleep on board his ship, but before leaving the house, he went upstairs to visit Dominique. He rapped lightly at her door and waited for an invitation to enter.

"I brought you a bottle of perfume," he exclaimed as he approached the bed. "It's the perfect scent for you: all heat and spice."

Intrigued, Dominique lay the sonnets she had yet to read aside, took the elegant crystal bottle, and removed the stopper. "Yes," she agreed. "This is delicious." She set the bottle aside on the nightstand without applying any, however.

Beau sat down on the side of her bed. "You look awful."

"I suppose I do, but I really don't care."

"Well, you should. I finally found you a handsome Frenchman, and I'm afraid you simply frightened him by appearing in your nightgown in the middle of the afternoon."

Dominique shrugged. "I don't care about that, either."

Beau reached out to smooth her tangled curls from her brow. "You're all freckled," he complained, "and your skin was as luscious as cream. What's gotten into you? How could you have run off, or come home with a British officer? Have you lost what little sense you had?"

Dominique batted his hand away. "You go wherever you choose and come home whenever you please with whatever companions suit you, so you've no reason to criticize me. Besides, did you really expect everything to always be the same here?"

"Yes! And it is, except for you." He thought a minute, and then mentioned Belle and Falcon. "I always thought they'd wed, but you, you need someone very special."

"I found someone special," she breathed softly.

She was so thin her eyes appeared enormous, and Beau had never noticed the extraordinary length of her eyelashes.

She had always been such a provocative young woman, and he didn't know what to make of the subdued soul sitting in his sister's bed. "I've missed you, Dominique."

"Thank you. I've missed you, too."

"Good. Then you'll do me a favor." Beau glanced around the petal pink room, and smiled slightly. "It's been months since Etienne has even spoken to a girl. He's rather shy, but if you could just talk with him a minute, it would make him feel welcome here."

Beau was dressed in dark blue with a white shirt and gray vest. He preferred simple styles in fine fabrics as did their father, but wore boots rather than shoes. "You look very much the proper gentleman," she scolded, "so surely you know I ought not to entertain callers here in my bedroom."

"It's still warm. Put on a lace shawl over your nightgown and meet him in the garden."

"No. I'd not be able to think of anything to say."

Beau regarded her with a decidedly skeptical glance. "Dominique, not once in your entire life have you ever been at a loss for words with a man."

Dominique knew she deserved that rebuke for indeed she had seldom been engaged in a conversation she had not led. Thinking back, she felt as though she were remembering another person, not herself at an earlier time. "No. I'm much too tired to entertain him."

"How can you possibly be tired? When were you last out of this bed?"

"I was up only this afternoon. You saw me downstairs."

"Yes, and so did Etienne and he's been pining to see you again ever since. Put on some of that new perfume, and he'll probably faint from the sheer joy of being with you."

Now it was Dominique who grew skeptical. While her brother never discussed his romantic conquests with her, she had no doubt that he had known a great many beautiful women. His experience bore no relation to hers, however,

and she refused to accept his assessment of the situation. "I don't believe we should take that risk. What if he were to injure himself in a fall?"

"I think he'd gladly accept a few bruises to lie at the foot of your bed for a while."

Beau was working very hard to lift her spirits, but an adoring man was the very last thing Dominique needed. "You're very sweet, Beau, but no. I don't want to speak with your friend. Please give him my apologies."

Beau opened his mouth to try another argument, then thought better of it. "As you wish," he sighed. He kissed her cheek and then rose to his feet. "You're right, of course. It was wrong of me to believe nothing would change while I was away, but I love you so much, I want you to always stay the same."

"No. The woman I used to be wasn't worth preserving. Good night, Beau."

"You're very wrong, but I'll not tire you further with an argument. Good night." Beau left her bedroom and went straight downstairs where he found Etienne boasting to Falcon of what an excellent shot he was.

"I've seen Etienne shoot," Beau interjected, "and he may very well match you in talent. Will you excuse us a moment? I need to speak with him privately." As soon as Beau had drawn his friend aside, he explained his dilemma.

"My sister is heartbroken over a man who was completely unworthy of her affection. Do you suppose you could speak with her for a few minutes and make her feel pretty again? I've seen how easily you talk with women, and it would mean so much to me, to all of us, if you could just make her smile."

After the fine meal and gracious welcome Etienne had received from the Barclays, he did not see how he could refuse, but he tried. "If she is not feeling well, won't she merely be annoyed if I disturb her?"

"No. She was almost pathetically grateful for my com-

pany when I went up to visit with her just now. Come with me out to the garden and we'll pick a few gardenias for you to take to her. She'll have to invite you in to thank you, and then everything will go well."

Fearing he would regret every awkward moment, Etienne nonetheless let himself be led outside. It was a glorious night, warm and bright, and scented by the lush fragrance of summer. He waited while Beau broke off several stems of snowy white gardenias and resigned himself to paying Dominique a visit he would make as brief as possible. He carried the flowers up the stairs with a slow, plodding step and stood aside as Beau knocked on Dominique's door. When she answered, he shook his head.

"I am afraid this will go very badly," he whispered.

"Nonsense. She is adorable. You'll love her." Beau pushed open the door and placed his hand in the middle of Etienne's back to propel him into Dominique's bedroom.

"Bon soir, mademoiselle," Etienne greeted her. He entered her room with his arm outstretched to offer the small bouquet. Wanting to get the wretched visit over with quickly, he hurried to her bedside, but beneath the wild curls he had noted that afternoon, he saw eyes as clear a blue-green as the waters of the Caribbean Sea. Then he noted her long sweep of eyelashes, the gentle arch of her brow, and the delicacy of her nose. Her face was a sweet heart-shape, and her mouth, slightly stained with berry juice, was perfection. Her lower lip had a lush fullness, and the upper a well-defined bow. Why had he seen only her tangled hair, when she was such an exquisite beauty? Then he cursed himself for not rushing up to her room hours ago.

Dominique had seen that same smitten expression on too many male faces to appreciate Etienne's awe. His dark gray suit was far from new, and while he was broad-shouldered, his vest hung loose, emphasizing a thin rather than muscular physique. His hair could do with a trim, but she liked his eyes well enough to produce a slight smile.

"I'm afraid Beau has played a very cruel trick on you," she said in the smooth, husky tone that always drew men near.

"Mon Dieu," Etienne whispered. "You are an angel."

"No. I assure you that despite the sorry way I must look, I'm still very much alive." She reached out to take the flowers and dropped the stems into the pitcher of water on the nightstand. "Merci. You've done your good deed, monsieur, and may go."

Etienne had charmed his way into women's beds from the day he had turned sixteen, but he could not think of a single thing to say to Dominique. Her hands were resting in her lap and he reached out to touch her wrist lightly and felt the thrill clear to the soles of his feet. "Oui, mademoiselle. You are very much alive."

His hand was tan, his fingers long and slim. His touch was pleasant, but Dominique was more amused than aroused. "You and Beau are our guests tonight, and you ought to hurry back to the party," she advised.

Dazzled by her smile, Etienne tried to remember if she had been tall. The one glimpse he had caught of her in her flowing nightgown had disclosed no hint of her figure, but he thought it likely she would also possess Belle's slender grace. He had always found pretty women an entertaining diversion, but mere amusement would not be nearly enough from her.

"I wish to set America free of British domination," he announced much too loudly for the silent room.

Fearful she would insult him, Dominique used both hands to smother her laugh, but Etienne was so pitifully sincere she was touched. "I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but this is a poor time, and a most inappropriate place, for a political discussion."