Rescued (Flowers of the Bayou) (2 page)

“I swear you better ask Lorraine ta’ tell you about da’ world and how a man and a woman act, cause if’ she don’t you bout’ to be in for some real big surprises.”

Amelia nodded a yes and held the door that made the loud squeak every time it was opened out to Morgan and closed it after she too had exited.

Morgan puffed on his cigar. Amelia didn’t know the first thing about pleasing a man. At first it was a satisfying thought but lately it was aggravating. The soft creaking of the door closing drew him away from his thoughts.

“Are we still going to your cousins’ for supper?”

“Naw’ I think it best we don’t tonight.” Morgan dismissed her. “Make sho' to ask Lorraine about what I told ya, you gone and irritated me beyond reason tonight go on ta’ bed now.”

Bed? Was she a child? It was only a little past sunset, yet if she played along the sooner she’d be free. Free to leave Lorraine and Morgan both behind until next Saturday. Nodding shakily as she knew she was supposed to, Amelia took his hand in her own. Leaning into him, she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek hoping it didn’t come off as so.

He gave her a disapproving look but said no more. Choosing to limp back to the old mare he’d managed to ride over without assistance. Amelia was smart enough to make sure he mounted securely and didn’t leave until he and the horse were just a tiny speck on the beaten trail. Only then did she look to the sky and judged the rain clouds were far enough for her to walk to her weekly slice of heaven which was anywhere away from Lorraine and Morgan, and in this case her place of employment, the Bradford mansion. All she would really need was a coat to keep off the chill.

Dashing in the house Amelia gathered up a few things and shoved them in her woven hand basket for the week, really there was no need but it was a habit. Most of her belongings were at the Bradford estate anyway. She’d been the main cook and maid along with the head of staff, Vivian, and butler, Andrew, going on two years now. In all that time she’d never seen its owner, only staunch portraits of a tall young man whom she knew to be him.

His young sister Georgia however was a different matter and the two were close. Georgia was the most brilliant little girl she’d ever encountered and if one thing could be said about her it was just that, and that she missed her brother very much. The last time he’d come to visit, he’d only stayed a few days, and had not come to his home, choosing to stay at his cousin Margaret’s with whom Amelia was well acquainted. In truth, she was the reason Amelia had gotten the position at the Bradford’s. One word from Margaret and the job was hers.

Opening the front door quietly, Amelia made sure to side step the screeching plank enabling herself to slip out undetected.

Lorraine had most likely gone upstairs but not to bed. She was scarce when Morgan was visiting. Never caring what he might try to do or where Morgan was taking Amelia, she trusted him to a fault.

Amelia tightened a scarf about her neck as the clouds above started to darken and the moment she did, little droplets of rain began to fall on Amelia’s head. “Dang it,” was all she could manage. Of course she’d misjudged her leeway but getting wet was better than staying at home… Reaching into her basket Amelia produced a large white bandana and wrapped it about her head; hopefully it would help, if only a little. As if to warn her against trying to beat Mother Nature, the sky opened up and it began to pour.

The rain was relentless as she made her way on the muddy trail to the large estate and it was cold. The thin coat she wore was soaked through. It felt like she was getting nowhere fast. Picking up her skirt she decided to take matters into her own hands and began to run. She ran until tired, and then began to walk again with long purposeful strides. It took nearly a half an hour more before the house could be spotted through the hard rain. It was barely visible, but at least she knew it was there.

A few minutes more and she was entering around the back of the large mansion dripping wet, but grateful. She didn’t want to see anyone. All she really wanted to do was take off her sopping clothes, lay in bed and rest. Yet she knew that wouldn’t be possible.

She would need to cook and clean and most of all play with Georgia. After that she needed to think about how to patch things with Morgan. Lorraine would demand that she did. After all,  her time with him had not gone as planned.

In silence, she made her way through the back of the house to her little room and stripped bare faster than ever before. Replacing cold wet clothes, left without a thought on the floor, with the medium sized towel she kept thrown over her bed post and began to dry off.

When her body began to warm again she searched in her wooden dresser for the thick green cotton dress that was her favorite and pulled it out. Sitting on her bed, she took the time to rest her sore feet before pulling it on.

Amelia then began to dry her hair which now curled mercilessly. She preferred it straight—one thing Lorraine and she had in common—and she would sit under a hot comb for hours as Lorraine straightened it every weekend. With it curly the job would be harder the coming weekend.

Pulling thick hair into a simple braid, Amelia knew it was time to get to work. Securing the braid with a piece of tulle Amelia scuttled down to the kitchen. Sliding down into a chair in front of the table she started peeling away at the potatoes inside.

It seemed to her she had left that same bowl of potatoes in the same spot last week. She was going to use them for a beef stew. The carrots were probably on the counter to the left. Vivian hardly ever touched what Amelia left out; never wanting to use what Amelia might to make a “fine feast” she would say.

Amelia enjoyed cooking for the people in the house. They all loved her food and it made her feel special, cooking for them, sometimes she found herself cooking enough for a small army wanting everyone to get as much as they liked. Needless to say there were often leftovers. Georgia loved her stew, tonight would be a special treat for her as Amelia didn’t cook it too often.

At six she was very smart and always wanted to help Vivian and Amelia. She told stories to them for hours about adventures or would go over every detail of some tall tale book her brother had purchased for her in China and other far off places.

She was very proud of him, would brag about his exploits to all who would listen; which most of the time was Amelia. Georgia had been requesting stew for the past few days because her brother was due back sometime this week. Georgia’s cousin, Margaret, had let Amelia know on good authority that today would be the day.

Amelia had to admit she would be looking over her shoulder if she heard a door open or close. He could already be there it was evening after all.

She didn’t know what to expect. Amelia had never seen anything of him besides pictures. Yes he’d been there before, it was his house, but it was either for such a short amount of time she somehow managed to miss him he was like a phantom when he came home to visit. All she knew was he was married once when he lived in England, but it ended unhappily and he moved back to the states with his little sister to expand his shipping industry.

“Guess who?” Georgia giggled. She had snuck up behind Amelia without her even being the wiser and Georgia was pretty proud of herself.

Amelia smothered a genuine yelp but recovered fast. “Let me see, is it Vivian?”

“No, try again.” Her sweet voice rang out.

“Well it certainly can’t be Andrew.” She teased. “Are you sure?”

“Of that I’m sure.”

“Guess again.”

“If it’s not Vivian, and not Andrew, then I can’t be at all sure who it is.”

“Yes you can.” Georgia giggled.

“Well who else is there?”

“Georgia silly!”

“Oh is there? Well that just can’t be, Georgia should be in her studies right now so she can’t be in here with me.” Turning, Amelia couldn’t help but laugh at the look that came across the child’s face.

“You’re no fun, I want to help.” She said proudly.

Amelia gave her a stern look. “I can’t let you play with me when you should be learning.” Amelia said, flicking the tip of the child’s nose.

Outside of the kitchen Jordan Bradford smiled, pleased to hear his sister’s voice. He’d feared the whole house had been abandoned and Margaret had taken Georgia in with her.

No one could blame him for the assumption either. When he’d arrived just moments ago the house had been silent. Andrew who was his butler had not even greeted him at the door. But that alone didn’t bring him to the conclusion, Andrew could have been off doing lord knew what. For a butler, he didn’t do his job well.

It was the absence of the head of household Vivian that was out of place. He wandered the corridor even went to his room without running into a soul and put away his things. He had walked back down and gone to the library, still no one.

Finally when a bit of hunger overcame him, Jordan decided on making the trip to the kitchen and apparently this was the only place in his house where life resided. The sweet voice of his young sister could be heard within—arguing with what he could only assume to be the help. He smiled as she tried to bargain and plea her way out of her lessons with the woman.

Hearing her whine he laughed as she tried one last attempt of getting out of her studies and decided it was time that he made his presence known, before finding out why his dear Georgia was not taking advantage of the education he was paying a “pretty penny” for.

Pushing open the wide door, Jordan walked into the kitchen unnoticed. Clearing his throat he turned eyes finding the short form of his sister and asked, “When I left you promised you’d take your lessons more seriously.”

“Jordan!”

The deep voice pulled Amelia away from her playful position and back to the here and now. She watched in silence as Georgia ran to the brother that Amelia had never seen. Not wanting to be caught staring, Amelia gazed down at the bowl that sat in her lap and listened to him tell her briefly of all the places he had been exploring, while she begged to know exactly what he had brought her from each one.

“I would be studying, honest, but Mrs. Langston left early today she had a terrible headache. I came to the kitchen to ask Amelia if she needed any help, Vivian said it was okay.”

Suddenly her fingers seemed to be the most interesting things Amelia had ever seen in her life. She could feel his eyes on her. He did what most did when they saw her; looked her up and down, and then a dismissal. Not that she minded; after all it gave her a second chance to look at him.

He was tall that was for sure, easily standing over six feet, and even though he was clothed, she could tell that underneath he had a strong frame. Letting her gaze travel upward she was stuck immediately by his eyes. His eyes were the oddest things, the clearest sapphire fringed with dark violet; she had never in her life seen eyes reminiscent of those—they were lovely, and to make matters worse, the man had the nerve to have eyelashes so long she was sure that any woman would fancy them her own.

“Can I Amelia?”

Snapping back to the present she managed a slight smile and a nod. “I think you should be asking your brother for permission not me Georgia.” She told the girl. “Besides you wanted to help before you knew your brother was home. I know you miss him.” Watching as she agreed she smiled down at the small girl and found those odd eyes on her once more and just like before she went back to examining her fingers

“Alright but I’ll be back.” Georgia promised. Bye Mademoiselle Amelia.” Georgia smirked proudly. “See I learned something today.”

“Bye Georgia.” Amelia laughed, if Georgia was anything it was smart.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Amelia, Jordan.” Georgia chirped already at her brother’s side

“Why of course.” Jordan looked down at the unfamiliar girl who, for the thousandth time, was fiddling with the napkin in her hands. “L'adieu dame stupéfiante.”

“Goodbye Mr. Bradford,” she managed to croak. When they had been long gone, she was left to wonder why her heart wouldn’t stop its persistent pounding.

CHAPTER TWO

Jordan looked out of the window quietly when he felt the familiar arms of a woman come up behind him. Snubbing out the cigar he was using to blow circles into the air in a glass of bourbon he turned into the figure.

“Come back to bed.” Whispering in his ear playfully Melanie pulled him toward her. “It’s not even morning yet.” Draping her arms over his shoulder dark red curls fell across Jordan’s shoulders like a waterfall.

“I would love to take you up on your invitation, nonetheless pressing matters await.” Rubbing his hands up the vixen’s arms he kissed her palm.

Melanie ignored; him his visits were few and far between and she didn’t want to admit it but Jordan was more than a patron, much more. “Give me half a chance and I can change your mind.”

“You can’t, I will be come by to see you tomorrow.”

Sighing heavily Melanie conceded. “I suppose I will have to settle then, but I sure wish you would change your mind, considering how much I love you.” She asked, a smile on her lips.

Jordan watched lazily as she stretched her naked form on the bed like a cat. She was beautiful, and one of the few women that he truly could say he cared about, but he didn’t love her. He’d given the silly notion of loving any woman up years ago after Regina, but Jordan didn’t want to hurt Melanie and elected to call her bluff. “I seriously doubt you do.” He chuckled.

Melanie let a smirk cover up her disappointment in his response, surprised a little at the sting in her heart, noting at the same time that it hadn’t shocked her in the least. Kissing his cheek she rose from the bed and grabbed her robe slipping it on. Jordan wouldn’t admit it even if he did have the slightest inclination toward her.

He hid it well, but the man harbored deep scars that had been inflicted by a woman who had one time called herself his wife. Of the years she had known him, Melanie had never known him ever to utter a word about her not even her name. She had gathered her facts from hearsay and hushed gossip. His wife had been Regina Riley an English socialite eleven years his senior. Jordan had only been eighteen when he married her.