Destiny's Daughter (23 page)

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Annalisa moved among her guests, smiling and chatting. A gentle breeze had blown across the river, making the heat of evening tolerable. All the windows of the house were opened wide and the heady fragrance of the rose garden mingled with the scent of French perfume.

The talk about the Archangel’s intervention in the scheme to sell Durier’s Park had faded. As before, a parcel containing enough money to pay all back debts had been tossed through a broken window of the old mansion. For days, rumors again were rampant about the identity of the man responsible. Then, as always, the press of daily business took precedence. Nothing really changed. The politicians continued to think of new ways to use their power. The businessmen worked to pay their debts. And affairs of the heart continued to occupy the minds of many of the city’s inhabitants.

Delia nudged her way through the crowd and touched Annalisa’s arm. Leaning close, she whispered, "Emile Soulet wishes to see you in your office."

Glancing away from the man who had been engaging her in conversation, she muttered, "Tell him I’m busy."

Delia clutched her arm. Her eyes held a worried look. "Emile says it’s very important."

Annalisa relented. "All right. Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes."

Easing around the clusters of laughing men, she continued smiling and chatting, all the while getting closer to the door. At last, she entered the hall and closed the door behind her. Outside her office, the stocky man was pacing. Looking up at her arrival, he frowned.

"Sorry to take you away from your work, Miss Montgomery." Whisking a hat from his head, he added, "We have to talk."

Opening the door, she motioned for him to sit while she took a seat behind her desk. It still surprised her to find him so polite, considering his rude, arrogant behavior at their first encounter.

"What is it, Mr. Soulet?"

He lowered his voice and leaned his elbows on her desk. "I won’t be able to guarantee the safe delivery of your shipments anymore."

She was outraged. "But that’s why I paid you."

"Shh. I know, ma’am." He leaned closer. "But somethin’s happened."

"What?"

He glanced around nervously. "Someone—someone big came to see me. He said that startin’ today he wanted all your shipments held on the docks until he gives permission for them to be released."

"Who is this person?"

He stared down at his big, callused hands. "I can’t say."

"If I pay you more money, can you have the shipments delivered tonight?"

He shrank back. "No. I ain’t takin’ any chances with my life. This man’s too big, too powerful. He’d have me killed if I crossed him."

"How long do you think he’ll hold my shipments?"

Soulet shrugged. "Probably till you agree to cut a deal with him."

She folded her hands in her lap, twisting and untwisting a lace handkerchief. Glancing up she asked, "If you’re afraid of this man, why did you come here?"

"I’m afraid of Mr. Masters, too. And I figured if I didn’t at least warn you, he’d have my hide."

Thank God for Chase’s friendship, she thought. Standing, she said, "Thank you, Mr. Soulet. You can leave through the kitchen. No one will notice you."

"Take care, Miss Montgomery."

She watched as the big man ducked through the doorway and closed the door with a soft click.

Someone wanted to make a deal. Someone who needed extra leverage. Annalisa thought about Chase’s warning. There were unscrupulous men who would stop at nothing to have what they wanted. What did this man want?

Returning to the parlor, she glanced around at the familiar faces. Which of these men would want to halt her shipments and why?

Boulanger, the chief of police, touched her arm as she was about to sweep past. "Good evening, Miss Montgomery. That’s a pretty gown. Do all of your clothes come from Europe?"

She dimpled. "Why thank you, Mr. Boulanger. As a matter of fact, most of them are made right here by our own seamstresses." She gave a little frown. Was he thinking of confiscating her shipment in order to impress his new mistress? Annalisa berated herself for her suspicions. Soon she would be suspecting even old Judge Turnbull, who sat on a settee in the middle of the room drinking her finest whiskey and being charmed by Delia. "Would you care for another drink?"

Boulanger noticed his empty glass and nodded.

"I’ll send a maid immediately."

Moving on, she paused to join Edmond Lafourcade and Jasper Willis, eager for any scraps of information. When she discovered that they were discussing the charms of a certain married woman, she hastily withdrew and moved to the far side of the room.

When the maid hurried to open the front door, Annalisa glanced up and felt a sudden chill. From her vantage point, she could clearly see Charles Montagnet.

He had been out of town for several weeks, and with each passing day, she had been feeling more secure. Suddenly her sense of security was shattered. There was no need to look further for the one responsible for threatening Emile Soulet. It had to be Montagnet.

Glancing around the room, he spotted her and gave a chilling smile. He paused to speak with nearly every man in the room, all the while edging closer to Annalisa. It took nearly an hour before he was at her side.

Under his breath he whispered, "I’d like to see you in your office."

"Perhaps tomorrow, when we can have more privacy." Annalisa felt her heartbeat accelerate and fought the lump of fear that clogged her throat. Time. She needed time to think.

"I’d prefer to talk now." Clamping his hand around her upper arm, he propelled her toward the door.

Annalisa gave a frantic look around the crowded parlor for Hattie Lee, but couldn’t see her. Then she was being shoved through the open doorway, and hauled roughly along the dim hall.

Entering her office, Montagnet closed the door and leaned against it, watching Annalisa. In her eagerness to put some distance between them, she took a seat behind her desk.

"What was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?" Her hands were trembling, and she held them tightly in her lap so he wouldn’t notice.

In her mind she was once again in the grip of terror, seeing the darkened figure pinning her, tearing her clothes, throwing her to the floor. As Montagnet began to speak, she mentally shook herself, forcing herself to concentrate on what he was saying.

"I’ve spent the last few weeks in Washington consolidating my base of power." While he spoke, he crossed the room and stood in front of her desk, placing both hands flat on the desktop.

"What does that mean, Mr. Montagnet?"

"Charles," he corrected smoothly. "It means that I don’t intend to be the governor’s aide forever. I’m meeting the right people, pulling the right strings. When the time is right, I’ll have the connections I need to move ahead."

"What does this have to do with me?"

He smiled, and she felt a chill course along her spine. "It means that I’m already one of the most powerful men in this state. Soon my power will be felt around the country. A business woman like you, who is dependent on the good will of men in high places, would be wise to . . ." He helped himself to a cigar from the box on her desk and waited until she held a light to the tip. Sitting down, he crossed his legs. "... consider taking in a partner." He watched the cloud of smoke curl toward the ceiling, then calmly met her gaze.

Annalisa’s mind raced. The man was toying with her. The light in his eyes told her he was enjoying the game. "What would my advantage be?"

"I would use my considerable influence to see that your business ran smoothly."

"It already does."

He flicked ash in a crystal ash tray. "In business, one can never be complacent, Miss Montgomery. In the wink of an eye, things could begin to go wrong."

"You mean shipments of goods could be lost? Our supplies could dwindle?"

His eyes narrowed. "I believe we understand each other."

"Just what would our partnership consist of?"

He stubbed out his cigar. His eyes glittered. "I would use my influence to see that all your shipments were expedited. If there were payoffs needed . . ." He gave her a knowing look. ". . . I’d take care of them. In return I would share half the profits." Before she could make a comment, he added, "And share your bed."

She froze. That was what he really wanted. Annalisa sat very still. The hatred she felt for this man was a palpable, living thing. She was amazed to hear her voice sounding almost normal. "There are so many lovely women who would be grateful for such an offer, Charles. However, I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse."

Uncoiling himself from the chair he leaned over her desk to grasp her shoulders so tightly she cried out in pain. "Don’t try that high-and-mighty act with me this time, you little bitch."

In her mind, Annalisa was again in her darkened office, hearing that raspy voice threatening,
Now, you little bitch, you’re going to pay.

"It was you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It was you who attacked me that night here in my office."

"Can you prove that?"

Her voice quivered. "I don’t have to. It’s enough that I know, and you know."

His hands left her shoulders to clutch her throat. Seeing her look of surprise, he lifted her nearly off her feet and tightened his grip until she was gasping for breath. "This is your last chance. Now what do you have to say—partner?"

The door was kicked open and Chase strode across the room. Abruptly, Montagnet released his grip on Annalisa, and was sent sprawling across the floor. Seeing the chilling look in Chase’s eyes, her attacker came to his knees and began to crawl backward.

"I don’t like anyone touching my woman," Chase said in that dangerously quiet tone.

"Your woman?" Montagnet blanched.

"That’s right." Chase took a step closer, and lifted Montagnet by his shirtfront, so that his face was only inches away. "And if you ever touch her again, I’ll have to kill you."

Annalisa saw Montagnet reach inside his jacket. Before she could call out a warning, Chase was pointing a gun at the man’s chest. "Give me an excuse to pull the trigger," Chase snarled.

Montagnet hesitated only a minute, then dropped his hand to his side. "You can’t shoot an unarmed man."

"Can’t I?" Chase thrust the cold barrel of the gun into Montagnet’s ribs.

For long minutes, the men faced each other. Chase found himself wishing this brute would go for his gun so he could satisfy his almost overpowering desire to kill him. A blazing fury rolled through him in waves, leaving him itching for revenge.

"From now on, Montagnet, whenever you have any business to discuss, you come to me. Understand? I’m Miss Montgomery’s new partner."

Montagnet shot her a look of pure hatred, then turned and stalked from the room without another word.

When the door slammed behind him, Annalisa slumped into her chair. Coming around the desk, Chase knelt at her feet and clasped her hands in his. They were cold. So cold. He began rubbing them between his big palms, willing heat back into her body. Glancing up at her face, he noted that all the color had drained, leaving her eyes looking too wide and frightened.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For saving me . . ." She shuddered, and he pressed her hands to his lips, then stared up at her face in shock and disbelief as she added, "... from a most distasteful task."

It was then that he noticed the little gun lying in her lap, hidden by the soft folds of fabric.

"If you hadn’t come to my rescue," she said in a soft voice that nearly broke, "I would have had to kill him."

A subtle change had come over Annalisa. Even as Chase studied her pale face, he became aware of it. The naive little waif he’d met on the riverboat was gradually evolving into a strong, capable woman. With each change in her life she was discovering new strengths. She had already accepted with dignity the role into which fate had thrust her after the death of her mother. Next she began assuming the responsibility for the safety of the women who depended on her. And now, despite what must have been a terrifying scene, she had been prepared to defend herself to the death.

Crossing the room, Chase poured two tumblers of whiskey. Handing one to her, he watched as she downed it in two long swallows. Her eyes burned, but the color began gradually returning to her cheeks.

"Want another?"

She shook her head. Satisfied, Chase took the chair opposite her desk and emptied his glass. His pulse rate was steadier now. He couldn’t say the same for his hands.

He found himself wondering about the emotions this woman aroused in him. When he’d heard Montagnet’s voice outside the door, he’d felt as if a knife had been shoved through his heart. He’d experienced a blind, staggering rage for the man threatening her. He’d wanted to kill him. With more force than necessary Chase shoved back his chair and crossed to the liquor cabinet. As long as he lived, he promised himself, pouring another glass of whiskey, no one and nothing would ever hurt Annalisa.

Whiskey sloshed over the rim of the glass, staining the floor boards. My God. Could it be that he loved her? Stunned, he stared at her in silence, then drained his glass, waiting for the effects of the liquor to dull the sudden, sharp edge of shock. In the beginning, it may have been simple lust, he admitted logically. But now, his feelings went much deeper. She was so good, always reaching out to those less fortunate. Luther had told him about her visit to Belle Riviere and her attempt to offer her meager savings to the widow Robichaud. Chase loved her for it. She was determined to help others even though it meant involving herself in a dangerous situation. Despite his warning, he knew she wouldn’t back down from her plan to funnel information.

Everyone who met her loved her. Hattie Lee couldn’t say enough about her goodness. Luther had been completely won over within days. The girls of the house accepted her as a sister. And the men of New Orleans fell over themselves to win her favor. And Chase Masters, who had left a string of broken hearts across the country, was her latest conquest.

"Montagnet has threatened Emile Soulet," she said.

With an effort, Chase pulled himself out of his reverie. "How do you know that?"

"Soulet came to see me. He was afraid, Chase. Genuinely afraid for his life."

"What’s Montagnet’s plan?"

"He’s ordered Soulet to hold all my shipments on the docks until they’re personally cleared by Montagnet. Now that I’ve refused his—offer, he’ll see to it that I never get another shipment."

Chase felt the warmth of the liquor settle low in his stomach, warming him. Now that the immediate threat to Annalisa was over, he could begin to think rationally.

"We’ll just have to—circumvent the docks for a while."

"How?"

"I’ll find men to deliver your shipments through the bayous. They’ll be brought to you after dark." He smiled, and once again she was reminded of a rogue. "The Louisiana bayous have accommodated pirates for a hundred years. Don’t worry about Montagnet."

There was a knock on the door. From beyond it, Hattie Lee’s voice called, "You’re wanted in the parlor, Annalisa."

The young woman stood and took a deep breath, pleased that her legs were once again able to hold her weight. With steady hands she thrust the little gun into the pocket of her gown. "I think it’s time I get back to my guests. And I believe you have a poker game starting soon." Her eyes met his, and once again he was reminded of the fire that burned beneath her prim facade. "Thank you, Chase. For everything."

As she started past him, he stood and caught her wrist, staring down into her lovely face. He needed to touch her, to prove to himself that she was really safe. And yet, he cautioned himself, if he took her in his arms, he wasn’t certain he’d be able to let her go. The feelings that were threatening to swamp him were too strong, too deep, to be satisfied with a single touch, a kiss.

"I meant what I said to Montagnet." He drew her close against him and marveled at the delicate softness that yielded at his touch. Lowering his mouth to hers, he murmured against her lips, "I’ll kill him if he ever does you any harm."

The kiss was hot, hungry, hinting of the passion smoldering just below the surface, waiting to erupt. She felt him in every part of her body. The cool flesh of her back began to warm where his hands stroked. Her thighs were pressed to his; her breasts flattened against the wall of his chest. Safe. That was the first thing she thought as he held her. In Chase’s arms, she would always be safe. As he took the kiss deeper, she felt a sudden sexual pull and knew fear. No. In Chase’s arms, there was no safety. Not for her. This gambler had a power over her emotions that no other man could claim. With a single touch, he could set her on fire. The kiss deepened and all thought scattered.

He gripped her shoulders almost painfully, holding her so close against him she could feel his heartbeat in her own chest. His kiss was hard, bruising, as if to reassure himself that she was real, that she was safe. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing, and the kiss gentled.

His gentleness was almost her undoing. She swayed against him, seeking his warmth, his strength, absorbing all the tenderness he offered. Clutching the front of his shirt, she drew him closer, needing to feel him warm and vibrant and alive. Such strength. Such tenderness. She would never have enough of him.

Catching her by the shoulders, he held her a little away from him and felt her breath soft on his cheek. He watched as her look of surprise was replaced with a little frown of uncertainty.

Slowly she surfaced, and her jumbled thoughts came into focus. "I really do have to get back to the parlor."

Reluctantly, he released her. At the door she turned, afraid that she had only imagined the repressed passion in that kiss. The look on his face said more than words.