The black swan (52 page)

But would she understand his passion? Dulcie would never freely give herself to him out of wedlock. Yet he would not marry now. He didn't even want to think of it So why had he been fool enough to accept Jem Moran's invitation to Mossrose?

Abruptly his thoughts shifted to a humbler vein. Perhaps he had figured it all wrong. Dulcie had certainly been romantically inclined toward other men. Toby Dobbs could not have been the first to take advantage of what was basically a harlot's nature in a well-bred woman.

He got an uncomfortable picture in his mind: Dulcie, freezingly polite for her parents' benefit while he tried to

pretend everything was quite as usual. He crossed his arms on his chest, scowling at the imagined coldness of this woman for whom he had returned to Savannah.

The house loomed in front of him. Facing east, sited on a natural knoll, was Dulcie's home. Mossrose was three and a half stories, a pleasant house of soft pinkish-brown brick, its tall windows framed in white, shuttered in green. Fragrant pink moss roses softened the lines of the house. To the south and west inmiensely tall, spreading live oaks, dripping Spanish moss, shaded the house from the hot afternoon sun.

Down the hill Adam could see the folly, its pillars twined with white wisteria and honeysuckle. Wrens sang, and blue jays scolded; a catbird cried. He heard horses* hooves pounding down a dirt lane and male voices raised in jeering tones. Out of sight, young children played noisily.

He paid the driver, and a wizened black man materialized from the house to take his sea chest. Then everyone had come at once to meet him: Patricia in yellow voile with ribbons at her waist; Jem, sweating, smiling. Half a dozen youngsters boiled around the comer of the house, closely followed by two attractive youths and Dulcie on horseback.

"See? Strawberry beat you!" Laughing, Dulcie jumped from her horse and walked toward Adam. Her hair had tumbled from its snood and curled riotously around her face. She was covered with dust, and her face was scratched. Beads of perspiration dotted her upper lip and forehead. He'd never wanted anything so much as he wanted to grab her and hug her tight.

She was in far greater command of self than he was. Standing just the proper distance away, she held out her hand. "Welcome, Captain Tremain." Her golden eyes danced, taunting him.

Adam's mouth curved into an appreciative, rakish smile. Fully recovered, he kissed her hand. He had the satisfaction of watching her blush as the other riders laughed and teased her.

Captain Tremain," Jem said, "my nephews, Waite Price and Philip Tilden."

Inside the cool entrance hall there were more introductions: Aunt Caroline and Uncle Webster Tilden from N'Orleans; their children, Jenny, Jeannie, Gay, and Robert; Dulcie's aunt Mildred Price from Jonesboro; and Mildred's

daughter, Millie, who was just fourteen and looked up at Adam through worldly wise lashes. Other cousins had resumed their joyous chase through the back gardens toward the orchards.

Adam searched the room, but Dulcie had vanished.

Patricia said, "Would you like to freshen up aftah youah journey?"

Adam followed her into a small, cheerful room. His chest stood open in a corner, and Lucius was hanging and smoothing his new dandy-ashore wardrobe, an extravagance he could hardly explain even to himself. Adam looked out the window onto a long balcony, down past the cedar grove to the quarters.

Refreshed, he stepped into the hall as Dulcie emerged from her bedroom. Poised and cool, she waited for him. Her hair had been redone, the dust and evidence of scratches erased. The touchable, errant little girl had been covered over by a virginal white eyelet pique frock.

Adam stopped, looking her over carefully and leisurely.

"Well, do I pass inspection?"

He moved close to her. He touched her cheek where a scratch had been, tracing the outlines of dust streaks he could no longer see. His gaze was sensual, his expression mocking. "I liked you better messed up."

Dulcie slapped his hand. "Ohh! Still your same charmin' self, aren't you. Captain!" Her eyes flashed, raking him the length of his uniform. "Haven't you anythin' to wear besides that blue suit?"

He grinned. "Your temper didn't wash away with the dust, did it. My arm, Miss?"

"Do I dare risk havin' you push me dov/n the stairs?" But she took his arm, with Lucius trailing behind.

They talked politely in the cool, dim parlor until the sun went down and the shutters were opened. Then Jem said, "Captain, you've never had time to look over Moss-rose before. Would you like to see my setup?"

Adam rose inmiediately. "It would be a pleasure, Mr. Moran."

Chattering, Dulcie and her girl cousins moved from the parlor to the cooler veranda.

"Where did you find him?" Gay sighed ecstatically. "He's beautifuir

**Well, but he's more than that," Dulcie said.

"What, then?"

Words like compassionate and brave raced through Dul-cie's mind. None seemed adequate. "Noble," she said, then blushed hotly. "Oh, do let's talk about somethin' else! He certainly didn't come here on my account. He ships cotton for Daddy, and that's all"

Millie said, "Dulcie, when you blush like that, the back of your neck goes all red like a turkey's."

"Well, Millie, then just look down at your fingernails. To me they look all black, like a Minorca hen's."

Millie stuck her tongue out at Dulcie.

"Oh, Millie, stop!" said Jenny. "What if you freeze that way?"

Jeannie said diplomatically, "Dulcie, tell us again about tomorrow."

Millie, forgetting her pique, asked, "Who-all's comin'?"

Dulcie smiled at her. "Just nearly everybody in the county, Millie. Plenty of boys just the age you like."

"Oh, it's goin' to be so excitin'! How many proposals do you think will happen? Tournaments always inspire the men!"

The morning threatened rain, but by ten o'clock the sun was shining on the elaborately decorated tournament ground. Jem had spared nothing to welcome his daughter home and to put on a rousing display for Captain Adam Tremain, whom he already acknowledged as a possible suitor.

A month of slave labor had gone into building the stage for the small acts and band concert, and the stairstepped stands for viewing the different events of the tournament itself. Over the viewing stands and the three pavilions, one of each regimental unit represented, stretched a sunshade of broad stripes of Confederate gray and gold. As they had at that other tournament, now nearly a year ago, pennons and ribbons of every color fluttered in the warm July wind.

But everything was different now, Dulcie mused. Old swains had married; younger girls^ than she were wearing shiny new wedding rings and shyly hiding their prompt pregnancies. Now there was the war.

She missed familiar faces: the Acton boys, Cedric Whit-aker, Todd Saunders, all serving under General Beauregard up in Virginia. Soon Glenn's company, the Savannah True Grays, .would join General Johnston. Leroy's Rough and

Readies, and his brother, Conroy's, company, the Invinci-bles, were spoiling to get into the war before it was over.

The ages-old tournament was infected with a martial spirit. As the preliminary parade passed the stands, there was Glenn in his very proper gray uniform with the gold braid down the trouser legs; Leroy Biggs, Andrew Whitaker, and Lyman Matthews in their fringed buckskins, slouch hats pinned up rakishly on one side; and Conroy Biggs and Arthur Redgrave in gray with scarlet sashes dripping like blood from their waists. Each represented his regiment and would compete against the other regiments.

Addie Jo Acton squirmed in her seat as Glenn doffed his hat to her. "Oh, Dulcie, isn't he fine? I'm so proud of him I"

Dulcie smiled at her. "You're goin' to be a very happy bride next weekend, Addie Jo."

"I hope we'll be invited to your weddin' soon, Dulcie," she said kindly. "Has he proposed yet?" Though she was too polite to point to Adam where he sat beside Patricia, Dulcie knew whom she meant.

"He's here on business with Daddy," Dulcie said, wondering if the back of her neck had turned red.

"Oh! Is that why he isn't competin?"

Dulcie was annoyed. Addie Jo almost seemed to be purposely stupid. "I don't know. Oh, look, the magician pulled a rooster out of his hat."

"He's just one of the servants. He had it there the whole time."

Strong with trumpets and heavy with drums, Jem's hired brass band offered a stirring rendition of "Bonnie Blue Flag." Then the trumpeter, with a special long silver trumpet, blew fanfare for the first event.

The units raced through the decorated arches, spearing the bright brass rings with their lances. Leroy won the honor of choosing the queen.

"Seein' how I'm elected cap'n of my regiment, it seems^ to me I deserve the greatest pleasure of pickin' out our Sovereign o' Love an' Beauty," Leroy began. "As y'all know, my lovely wife, who used to be Camille Whitaker before she improved her station"—^he shot an impish grin at Granddad Whitaker, who rose and good-naturedly shook his stick at him—"my wife is easy the prettiest girl in seven counties, maybe even eight, if I could name eight of 'em." His audience laughed with him. "But so happens Camille

tol' me this mawin', now, Leroy, don't you go choosin' me up for queen, 'cause I don't wanta git up outa my rockin' chair today." A slight, uneasy titter stirred Jem's guests. Camille was a bride of three months, but her pregnancy was obviously older.

"An' I ain't pickin' Miss Dulcie, though she mighta been my second choice. She's already got a feller. One who ain't got the guts to compete against real men." He smiled contemptuously at Adam. 'So, friends and neighbors, I'm namin' purty li'l Addie Jo Acton to be Rulin' Sovereign o' the 1861 Confederate Tournament!"

Cheers greeted his speech. Addie Jo was a favorite; and wasn't she soon to be a bride, and this her last chance? Then there were more cheers, mostly from the men, as Leroy daringly kissed the queen.

Glenn chose Gay as the queen's lady. She went radiantly down to stand by the throne. Arthur Redgrave chose Millie, and suddenly Dulcie was left sitting alone.

It seemed no one noticed but herself. She picked up her skirts, ready to go elsewhere; but Adam was there beside* her, large, male, and protective. "Pardon me, Miss, do you allow yourself to be seen with outcasts?"

Dulcie laughed, mostly in relief that he had rescued her from the same fate. "Adam, why aren't you out there com-petin'?"

"Is that where you want me to be?"

"They'd let you join one of the teams."

"Look at them. Except for a few, they're young boys. Do you want me taking advantage of weedy youngsters like Waite Price?"

Dulcie giggled. "Knowin' Waite, he'd probably trick you and throw you over the roof."

Adam laughed. "Is that what it takes to please you? Perhaps it's worth risking a broken neck."

"Adam . . . don't." Dulcie shuddered.

"At last, an honest expression of feeling! The lady does not want the brave seaman to injure himself."

"Don't flatter yourself. Captain. I could hardly care less."

"Should I believe that, Dulcie?" He stared at her until she was forced to pull her eyes away from the crowning of the queen and look at him. She had so little will of her own when he was near. She felt herself swaying toward the sparkling blue of his eyes and the tender set of his

mouth. "If I should be wounded honorably upon the field, would you tend me? Stay me with flagons? Comfort me with apples?"

Dulcie, recognizing the words from the Song of Solomon and remembering what came after, dropped her gaze. It was unfair of him to make love to her in public, and in such a way. "Adam, please don't tease me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Looking out over the sunny field where the pennons flew, she said quietly, "I think you ought to be out there."

"To save my Southern honor? Or yours?"

"To save my father's pride. You're his guest, not mine. And not a planter in the county will want to do business with a man who won't risk his hide in harmless tournament games."

"I didn't realize there were so many blockade runners to choose among."

"There are enough. Oh, Adam!" she said in exasperation. "You know what I mean!"

"I'm beginning to get the idea."

When the guests left the viewing stand and began drifting toward the house and the barbecue pits, Adam walked with Dulcie toward the little knot of people clustered laughing around Jem and Patricia.

Dulcie's cheeks were burning with indignation. Couldn't Adam see how people felt about a—a coward?

Leroy's raucous voice cut into her thoughts. "Beggin* yo' pahdon, Cap'n-—I did hear you're cap'n of a ship, didn't I?"

"You heard right."

Leroy punched him on the arm. "Sorry to be laughin', Cap'n. Just seems there's an awful lot o' funny people made into cap'ns these days. Anybody'd think we was desp'rate or somethin'."

Adam, still smiling, looked Leroy's fringed buckskin uniform up and down. "They might at that."

Leroy's face grew red. "I take that as an insult, Tre-main."

Adam looked grieved. *T thought I was being agreeable. My apologies, Mr.—?"

"Cap'n Leroy Biggs, o' the Rough and Readies. Seems to me, you bein' a officer, you'd join in the fun. Less'n youah scared o' competition. That bein' the case, I can

see you don't wanta look like a damn fool in front o' Dulcie. Hit home with that'n, didn't I, Cap'n?"

"Oh, Leroy, don't be such a boor!" said Dulcie.

"You let her do all youah fightin' fo' you, Cap'n? Wouldn't s'prise me if you spread that story about bein' a blockade runner yo'seff."

The muscle worked at the side of Adam's jaw; his eyes narrowed. Deliberately turning his back on Leroy, he offered Dulcie his arm. "Shall we have a cool glass of shrub, Dulcie?"

Behind them Leroy said, "One kind o' skunk I purely hate is a coward, ain't that right, Lyman!"

Dulcie stiffened. "Are you goin' to let them say—"

Adam imprisoned her hand under his arm. "Keep walking, Dulcie."

"But they're insultin' you! You just can't let them—"

"They're playing a game, and I don't care to play, that's all."