Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) (26 page)

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, and he jerked his head around to face Judah while the color drained out of his face. "I thought you were—"

"Dead," Judah furnished. "No, I am sorry to spoil your
plans, but I am very much alive." Judah's eyes moved to
Bandera. "I would say the two of you deserve one an
other, Bandera. But you see, Sebastian will not live long
enough to become your husband."

Fear made Sebastian's hand tremble when he reached
inside his breast pocket for his pistol. As his fingers touched the weapon, he felt his confidence return. He aimed the gun at Judah's heart, and laughter filled the
air. "I would say you are the one who will not live long,
Judah. I'll say this for you, you are a persistent bastard, not as easy to kill as I thought."

Judah took a step forward, but halted when Sebastian
cocked the hammer.

"Careful, cousin. I would be praised for killing a fugitive if I were to shoot you now."

"I should have known you were up to something from
the beginning, Sebastian. I underestimated you, and that's
a mistake I will not make again."

"That's because you will be dead, Judah."

"Not yet, Sebastian—not today," Liberty said, propelling herself against Sebastian and knocking the gun from
his hand. The weapon fell to the ground, discharging the one bullet in the chamber.

"Run, Judah, flee!" Liberty pleaded, kicking the gun
out of Sebastian's reach. "Do you not see that you will die
if you stay. The place is surrounded by men who know
you are here. Your only chance to escape is by way of the
river—hurry!"

Sebastian, not so brave now that he had no weapon,
hung back, eying his cousin warily. Judah's eyes swept
Bandera's face for a brief moment. "I have looked at the
face of an angel and seen a devil," he whispered.

Bandera took a step toward Judah, something akin to
shame and sorrow reflected in her eyes. "Judah, forgive
me," she pleaded.

Judah didn't even look at Bandera. He glanced back at
his cousin. "I will be back. Perhaps not today or even
tomorrow, but I will return. I would advise you to look over your shoulder and lock your doors at night."

"Judah!" Liberty cried as the heavy footfalls of advancing men could be heard on the garden path. "Please leave
now!"

Casting a quick glance at Liberty, Judah smiled slightly.
"For your help I thank you, little Liberty. If I never see you again, I will long remember your sweetness."

"Judah!" she cried, as he whirled around and melted into the shadows. Her heart was shattered, and she had the feeling she wouldn't see him for a very long time.

As the men approached, Sebastian pointed out the way
the fugitive had taken. Liberty glanced at her sister and saw the tear that rolled down Bandera's cheek. "I hope
you are proud of yourself," she declared. "I wouldn't like to be in your shoes when Judah returns. A desperate man
is very dangerous. Judah is more than desperate . . . and he will be back!"

Liberty stood on the riverbank, scanning the horizon.
Storm clouds clung to the sky, and her heart was heavy
with sadness. Zippora had told her how easily the crew of
the
Winged Victory
had tricked the men watching the
ship. Judah was now safely aboard and he had sailed with the morning tide. Tears stung Liberty's eyes as she said a silent prayer for his safety. Someday Judah would come
back, and she would be waiting for him . . .

The early morning sun was hidden behind dense black
storm clouds. In the strange yellow light, the Mississippi
River appeared to be a gun-metal gray color. Frothy white
caps rushed to the shore, as if trying to escape the impending storm. In the distance, a flash of lightning
split through the heavens, followed by a rumble of thun
der.

Despite the oncoming storm, the
Winged Victory
slipped her anchor and headed for the open sea. The men
who had been guarding her, at Sebastian's orders, had
been easily dealt with by the crew of the
Winged Victory.
They were now gagged and bound, and locked in a warehouse on the waterfront.

Judah watched with cold eyes as New Orleans faded
into the distance. "Thank you for saving me my friend. I
could never have escaped without your help."

"Don't thank me, Captain. It was your friend, Zippora,
who showed us the way. She was remarkable. It was her idea to lure the guards into the warehouse with a promise
to tell their fortunes. Where did you find her anyway?"

Judah shivered, knowing he would have died had it not
been for Zippora. "I didn't find her, she found me. I owe
her a debt I can never repay."

"You are still not well, Captain. I promised Zippora I
would make you stay in your bed for a few days."

Judah was too weak to protest as Philippe led him to
his cabin. He eased himself down onto his bed and spoke
in a calm voice, trying to cover the rage that governed his
thinking. "I feel like I am running away, Philippe. I swear
to you the day will come when I will return, and when I
do, blood will be spilled at Bend of the River Plantation!"

"When you return, Captain, I will be beside you. All
the crew thought well of your mother, and they will help
you in any way they can."

Judah lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. His head was pounding, and he still felt weak and shaken.

"What course do I set, Captain?" Philippe asked, trying to draw Judah's mind away from his troubles.

Raising up on his elbow, Judah managed a smile. "Set a
course of the Caribbean, Philippe. It is time the
Winged
Victory
earned her keep. How do you think the crew will
take to a little privateering? The Governor of Martinique
was a friend of my father's. I feel sure he will issue me a
letter of marque, so we can operate in the Caribbean without being called pirates."

A big grin spread over Philippe's face. "I believe I
speak for every one of the crew when I say, they will like
it just fine, Captain."

Liberty shaded her eyes against the bright glare of the
sun as she watched the approaching boat. For over a week
she had kept a close eye on the Mississippi, hoping her
father would return. If anyone could help Judah, it would
be her father. He would believe her when she told him
Judah was innocent. Then she recognized Mr. Forester, her
father's attorney. When she waved to him, he only acknowl
edged her by the merest nod of his head. Mr. Forester had
always been glad to see her. Why was he acting so distant?
she wondered. And why were the two long boxes beside
him. They looked like . . . like . . . coffins!

Fear and dread tugged at her heart. "Please, no," she
moaned softly, seeing the sadness in Mr. Forester's eyes.
"Not my father—not my mother!"

With a quick word to the pilot of the boat, the attorney
stepped ashore. He walked over to Liberty, and with sympathy in his eyes, reached for her hand. "I am sorry to be the bearer of grievous news, my dear. Your father and mother met with an accident."

Liberty stared in disbelief at the men whom were
unloading the coffins onto the pier. She became acutely
aware that the sun was still shining and birds were singing
in the nearby oak tree. Why was life going on as usual when the ones she loved were dead? Her mother and
father could no longer feel the warmth of the sun or hear
the sweet bird songs.

"How?" she managed to choke out. She stared directly
into the attorney's face.

"I am told the boat on which they sailed hit a sudden
squall and capsized. Many of the bodies were not recov
ered."

Tears gathered in Liberty's eyes. "There must be some mistake. My father was a strong swimmer. He would have
been able to save himself and my mother."

The old lawyer rubbed her cold hands, wanting to bring
her comfort. Not only had he been Louis Boudreaux's
attorney, but his friend and confidant as well. Louis had
left Briar Oaks to Liberty, and had made Forester her
guardian. He would do the best he could for her, but
there would be dark days ahead. She was too young and inexperienced to hold on to a plantation the size of Briar Oaks, not with the staggering debts that were increasing
every day. Out of his friendship for Louis, Forester was
determined to help Liberty in any way he could, but he knew she would not keep the plantation for very long.

Liberty slowly walked over to the coffins. By now she
was blinded by tears. Her hand trembled as she touched the roughened wood.
"Oh, Papa, Maman"—
she sobbed—"I cannot bear a world without you."

Through her tears Liberty, saw that the boat's crew had
moved back a respectable distance so they would not
intrude on her grief, and she did feel the need to be alone
to express her sorrow. "Monsieur Forester, will you see that my father and mother are taken to the house?"

"Of course, but-"

Before he could finish, Liberty turned away and scam
pered into her small boat. He watched her paddle toward
the swamp, knowing this was her way of dealing with her
parents' untimely deaths. With a heavy heart, he turned his attention to the heartbreaking task at hand. He still had to inform Bandera that her mother and stepfather were dead.

The rain was falling heavily against the black umbrella
Liberty held over her head. She stood silently beside the
graves of her mother and father, unable to believe they
were gone. She snapped the umbrella shut, allowing the rain to saturate her clothing, to plaster the thin muslin to
her slim body. She shivered with cold, and her tears mixed with the rain. Suddenly she raised her face to the heavens,
crying out her anguish.

"Papa, I miss you so desperately. Briar Oaks is in trouble. I try to think what you would do if you were here. I know how much you love this land, Papa, and I
will try to make you proud of me. With my last breath, I
will fight to save it, but I do not know how!"

Part Two

A Woman’s Conquest

12

October, 1814

There was a feeling of unrest as rumblings of the war
between America and England were drawing ever nearer
to Louisiana. General Andrew Jackson had invaded Span
ish Florida, and captured Pensacola from the English. It
was reputed that a fleet of British soldiers had set sail from Jamaica, their destination unknown. Some feared
they were heading for Louisiana. Amid the rumors and
speculations, not all the French Creole populace were
steadfast in their loyalty. While they had no liking for the
English, they were not inclined to offer the Americans their wholehearted support.

In any case, neither the cold wind that howled down
the valley, nor fear of impending war kept the elite of
Louisiana from arriving at Briar Oaks Plantation to attend the wedding of Sebastian Montesquieu and Bandera Boudreaux.

Madame Darcy and Madame Pessac, the two matrons
who attended all the parties and weddings, and spent their time gossiping about the guests, had their heads
together. "I must say," Madame Darcy stated, "all and all
it was a lovely wedding. Everyone knew that Sebastian and Bandera were meant for each other. It's a pity that
the death of Bandera's parents caused such a delay, not to
mention the odd happenings with Gustave and his daugh
ter Gabrielle."

"What happened there?" Madame Pessac inquired, her
eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Well, it is all very strange. You know about the fire at
Bend of the River about three years back?"

"Oui,
does not everyone know about that?"

"At the time we all believed that Gustave and Gabrielle
had perished in the fire, but it seems that Gustave's
major-domo, Moses, arrived at the burning house in time to rescue them both by way of the second-floor balcony.
For some strange reason, they took a boat to New
Orleans and did not tell anyone they were unharmed. A
very curious business. I can tell you Sebastian was beside
himself with grief. He thought they were dead, while all
along they were in New Orleans."

"It has not escaped anyone's notice that Gustave and Gabrielle did not attend the wedding. I think it is a shame
to treat Sebastian in such a shabby manner."

"Oui,
Sebastian is such a dear boy. I wonder why he
and his mother left Bend of the River after the fire? I had
thought he would inherit the plantation."

"So did we all, and so he should. There was much speculation as to why Gustave Montesquieu no longer
allowed Sebastian and his mother to live under his roof.
Of course the Montesquieus are proud and secretive and
they keep their troubles to themselves. One can only guess
that the trouble came from Gustave's grandson, that American."

"Oui,
what a nasty business. Some say he is dead, and
rightly so, I should think."

"I cannot say for sure. Gustave and his daughter never
entertain, and no one is invited to Bend of the River, except Liberty Boudreaux. Both Gustave and Gabrielle have become very reclusive."

"It is my understanding that even though Liberty inher
ited Briar Oaks, the married couple will be residing here.
At one time Liberty was a strange wild child. Now she is
more subdued. The poor child has much to weigh on her
shoulders. She labors like a slave, trying to keep Briar Oaks from being taken over by the moneylenders. I admire her spirit."

"She is such a pretty little thing. My grandson has lost
his heart to her, but she brushes him aside as she does all
the others. They are calling her a heart-breaker—an in
comparable."

"So true," the friend agreed, "so true. At one time I
thought Bandera was the beauty in the family. But now
Liberty outshines her."

Sebastian took a sip of wine, savoring the bouquet. The wine cellar at Briar Oaks still had fine wines. He bowed to the two matrons as he walked by them, and when he caught the end of their conversation, his lips curved into a smile. As he gazed across the room, the
sound of Bandera's musical laughter met his ears. Today a
part of his ambitions had been fulfilled; Bandera was his
wife. It was but a matter of time before he would have
everything he wanted. Sebastian was determined to settle down and act the model citizen so his uncle would soon
realize that he was a worthy heir for Bend of the River. The old man must now know that Judah would never come back.

Sebastian's eyes momentarily clouded. It angered him
that Gustave had refused to attend his wedding, and he was further annoyed by the fact that he and Bandera would have to reside at Briar Oaks for the time being.
That was more aggravating because Louis Boudreaux had
left everything to Liberty; Bandera had inherited no part of the Plantation.

He gazed across the room to the golden vision of loveliness that stood apart from the crowd of dancers as if she were not of the earth, but some mystical princess,
lost in an enchanted world. Sebastian realized with a jolt that the two matrons had been right: Liberty had matured
into a delicate beauty who far surpassed Bandera in looks.

There was such a radiance about her that Sebastian
drew in an excited breath. Liberty was as unattainable to
him as the moon. She had been cold and distant since
Judah Slaughter had disappeared, and he knew that she
detested him. For some reason it bothered him. Neverthe
less, for Bandera's sake, Liberty had agreed that Sebastian and his mother could live at Briar Oaks until they found a place of their own.

Liberty felt Sebastian's intense gaze upon her, and she
turned, her eyes locking with his. He nodded and smiled,
raising his glass in a silent tribute, but she ignored the
overture and turned back to the window. Her mind was
on another man. As always, she wondered where Judah
could be. Was he safe? What was he doing? Did he ever
think of her? Each night Liberty prayed for Judah's
safety. One thing she knew: if he were alive, he would one
day return to Bend of the River Plantation to settle an old
score.

"Pipe dreaming, little sister?" Bandera asked. "Why do
you not join with the others in celebrating my wedding?"

Without looking up, Liberty answered in a soft voice.
"I see nothing to celebrate. You are married to a trickster
and a thief. However, the two of you are well suited to
one another." Liberty made a wide sweep with her hand.
"You and your new husband may enjoy my hospitality
while you can. When Judah returns, there is nowhere the
two of you can hide to be safe from him."

Bandera grabbed Liberty's arm and dug her nails into its soft flesh. "Hush. You will not talk like that. I am warning you, Liberty, have done with your accusations, or I will ... I will . . ."

Liberty pushed her sister's hand away and stared back
at her, not in the least intimidated. "Or you will what,
Bandera? I am no longer afraid of your threats."

Bandera's eyes dropped before Liberty's. No, Liberty
was no longer so easy to control now that she was the
mistress of Briar Oaks. Many changes had occurred in her sister. She had ceased to be a homely little river rat who spent her time in the swamps, and she had turned
into a lovely swan with polished and graceful manners. Bandera knew that even her beauty paled when compared
to Liberty's. Now, when they attended a party or ball, it was Liberty who was surrounded by all the gentlemen, and Bandera who waited to be asked to dance.

Jealousy flamed in Bandera's heart. "You would do
well to guard your tongue or Sebastian will have it lopped
off."

"I do not fear Sebastian, any more than I fear the water
moccasin who slithers through the water. Neither is a threat if one watches one's back."

Soft laughter met Liberty's ears, and Sebastian's hand
came down heavily on her shoulder. "If I am the snake,
should you not fear me, little sister? I might wrap myself
around you and squeeze tightly." As he spoke, Sebastian's
hand moved caressingly over Liberty's shoulder. "I could
easily crush you," he whispered into her ear.

Liberty swept away from him, and his hand dropped to
his side. "Save your threats for someone who is afraid of
them. I merely loathe you, Sebastian. It is because I do
not want to see my sister live in the streets that I invited
you to share my roof. Just remember at all times that you
are a guest in my home, and do not abuse the privilege."

Anger clouded Sebastian's eyes. "Do you want everyone
to hear you air our family problems?"

Liberty saw that no one was close enough to hear her
words? "I do not care that the world knows I do not like
you, Sebastian."

Anger fired his eyes, and he grabbed Liberty's hand.

Before she could react, he pulled her toward the stream of
dancers, forcing her to dance with him and leaving Bandera glaring after them both.

"Have a care, Liberty," Sebastian warned. "We would not want our neighbors to think you do not love me and
your sister."

She raised her chin and returned his bold stare. His grip was tight, and she knew he wouldn't let her go
without a struggle. "I keep my mouth shut only because I
know my mother would have wanted me to look after my
sister. I can do nothing about your deception, but be warned, Sebastian, one day Judah will return, and you and my sister will be forced to face his fury."

A smile tugged at his lips. "You are breathtaking when
you are angry, do you know that?"

She tried to pull away, but he would not relinquish his
hold on her. "Save your compliments for your wife. You
will find she needs an enormous amount of flattering to
make it through every day."

Sebastian's breath came out in a hiss, and he felt his body come alive. "You little firebrand. Don't you know that I desire you? I have watched you bloom into a beauty. You are wild and unpredictable and every man
here wants you. Have I not had to stand by while others
lusted after you?"

"Let me go," Liberty said in a disgusted voice, feeling
sick to her stomach. "I detest you!"

"You should be nice to me, little sister. I happen to
know that before your father died he borrowed heavily
against Briar Oaks Plantation, and you face the possibil
ity of losing everything. Perhaps I can help you."

"You cannot even help yourself, Sebastian. You will be
living here on my charity. Because of my sister, you and your mother will have a place to stay. I know that both of
you have been living with friends in New Orleans, and that your welcome was growing very thin. Everyone be
lieves that your uncle is being unreasonable in throwing
you out of his home—I happen to know you deserve far
worse."

Again he smiled. "Do you know your eyes sparkle like
blue fire when you are angry?"

"How dare you insult me so. If my father were here he
would — "

His eyes darkened. "Your father is dead," he said flatly.

"I wonder what our neighbors would say if I were to slap you right now?" Her eyes held a hint of warning.

His brow furrowed. "Try it and see."

Suddenly, unable to stand his touch any longer, Liberty
wrenched her hand from his grasp and spun away. Un
mindful of the curious stares that followed her, or the
anger on her sister's face, she rushed across the floor and outside. Standing on the terrace, Liberty breathed in large
gulps of cold, cleansing air.

Tears washed down her face as she gazed up at the moon. Somewhere that same moon shone down on Ju
dah. Was he with a woman at this moment? "Please come back soon," she sobbed. "I have waited so long for your
return. I have grown up, and became a proper lady, hoping you will be pleased when you see me."

A dark, ominous cloud moved over the moon, and
Liberty shivered. Tonight her heart was troubled. Sebastian had been right. If she didn't do something soon, she
would lose Briar Oaks. She had received several marriage proposals from wealthy young gentlemen who would help
her save Briar Oaks, but she had turned them all down.
Her heart and body belonged to a man who had probably
forgotten her very existence.