The black swan (58 page)

Adam took a place among the men at the long bar, ordering a brandy, sniffing it, savoring its scent and taste as he watched Glory. Her smile was broad, her sparkling eyes scanning her audience. He chuckled when Glory spotted him, leaning forward, throwing the girl next to her out of step. The others looked on, laughing as Glory waved happily at him. Adam raised his glass to her, his smile only slightly less broad than hers. For the moment the disturbing ghosts of Edmund Revanche and Wolf were banished.

Minutes after the show ended. Glory was draped over him, smudging his dark outfit where her powder made an outline of her body against him.

"Wasn't I wonderful, Adam!?'* She touched her nose to his. "Did you miss me?"

Before an appreciative audience he kissed her soundly.

She touched the side of his face, her eyes already anticipating the night.

"Go get dressed, Glory," he advised, smiling, "and hurry."

She stared at him for a moment, then wriggled her hips against his. "What do I need clothes for?" She giggled and hurried off, returning quickly with a cape thrown over her shoulders, barely concealing the clashing scarlet costume. "I'm ready!"

"Christ! So am I," Adam muttered. She hurried along beside him chattering, telling him everything that had happened since she had seen him last. As they entered the hotel lobby, she said, "Oh! It's just like coming home! I missed you, Adam, I really did! Why, if I had any decency in me, just any at all, I'd forget all the others and love you always."

Ignoring the stares of the people in the lobby, some approving, others outraged, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his room. "Just love me tonight. Glory. One night at a time."

"You're marvelous," Glory mumured, twining her fingers through his damp, curling hair. "Even when you're only half with me, you're marvelous."

He laughed softly. "Which half of me did you miss?"

She propped herself up on one elbow, staring down into his face. She said earnestly, "You've a mind full of butterfly ghosts."

"I'm half here, and I have butterfly ghosts." He pulled her down on his chest, nibbled at her ear, then whispered,

"What are butterfly ghosts?"

She smiled. "Things on your mind or heart. Disturbing— "

"I've only got one thing on my mind," he said quickly. But she wasn't to be deterred. Without knowing how it happened or realizing he had wanted to talk, Adam found himself telling Glory about Edmund Revanche.

Glory curled herself into the curve of his body, then she sat up, her face animated. "Why you'll just have to do something to that man!"

Adam looked away. "I should have killed him the first time I met him."

"Kill him!" she squealed, her flame-red curls bobbing in disarray. "Oh, no! That wouldn't do any good. Once he was dead, he'd never even know he'd been killed."

Adam snorted, laughing as she shivered with indignation. "What the hell did you say anyway? That didn't make sense.'*

"Now, don't you tease me! Killing is just what a creature like that would expect you to do. Men are so obvious!"

Adam folded his arms behind his head, grinning. "What would you do to him, Glory?"

"I'd hit him right where it hurts—right in his insuffer-

able, arrogant pride! And he'd be alive to know I'd done it, too!"

Adam, still smiling, was now listening carefully. "Go on. How?"

She hopped to her knees, then mounted him, sitting across his loins, her breasts bobbing as she gestured with waving arms, her eye^ sparkling. "Well, doesn't he just think he's king of the anthill with all his little black ants to do his work for him? Take away his ants, and what's he king of then? Everyone in the whole South falls apart if one teeny little slave gets away. Just imagine if every black on his whole plantation vanished. Everyone would know! He could never hide that! You do haul slaves, don't you? Well, haul his."

"Clear out all his slaves?" Adam said slowly.

"Yes! Yes! Wouldn't it be fun? Think how completely just it'd be!"

Adam grinned. Soon he was chuckling, then laughing out loud. "Lord, but that would give me pleasure."

"You'll do it?" Glory squealed.

"Maybe. By God, maybe we will. I'll see what Ben and Beau think."

"Oh, I know they'll agree!'*

Adam put his hands on either side of her head. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Good! Now, let's make love!"

He moaned softly, shaking his head, but Glory's hands were already busy, and the rhythm of his breathing changed.

The following afternoon Glory and Adam met Ben and Beau at the dock. At first they listened quietly to the plan to rid Edmund of his slaves, but they were soon adding their own embellishments.

Ben said, "Damn! When do we go? We'll talk to that voodoo queen UUah knew."

"Juneau Nuit," Adam said.

"There's not a darky in New Orleans that won't do exactly what she says. Jeez, Adam, it'll work!"

Beau had remained silent, his face sad. "Nothing Fd like better than to see that son of a bitch ruined. I'll go to my grave rememberin' those masks and . . ." His voice trailed off. "How do we work it, Adam?"

Adam spoke low. "Mostly everybody allows the darkies

to go to the voodoo ceremonies. I'll tell Juneau what we have in mind. During the ceremony she'll give the slaves instructions, and they'll slip away. We'll have to arrange to haul them to the ship, but—"

"Sounds easy as pie," Ben declared. "'There's bound to be a hitch."

Adam shrugged. "We'll go armed and deal with surprises as they come."

"How soon?" Beau asked.

"As soon as the moon darkens again—next trip to New Orleans. Agreed?"

Ben and Beau put their hands atop each other's, and Adam covered them.

"Hey! Don't leave me out!" Glory covered their hands with her own.

They left for New Orleans aboard the Liberty the following month. "Damn, the only thing I don't like is that Revanche won't know it was us."

"Hell, Adam," Ben said. "Maybe you want that madman chasing around the world after you, but not me. Just take his slaves and let the bastard go crazy trying to figure out what happened."

"I want him to think of me every time he thinks of what he lost. Every time it hurts him, I want my name on his lips. He made Ullah know, he made Tom know. I want him to know."

Ben, looking at him, shook his head. "Send him a letter if it makes you happy. Just don't mention I was with you. I like living."

After an uneventful run they entered the noisy piers at Poydras Street. The military regalia of New Orleans increased with every trip, and interest grew steadily in the ordnance that Adam carried as cargo. Already the South was feeling the scarcity of manufactured goods. But the Southern way of gracious living continued as though there were no Yankees on Southern battlefields and no Yankee cruisers trying to close off the mouth of the Mississippi.

Ben, as captain of the Liberty, was immediately surrounded by agents and representatives. Adam and Beau were overseeing the removal of cargo when a small black boy raced up the gangplank, his smile wide, his eyes wider as they darted over the low, sleek blockade runner.

"Mastah Cap'n Adam Tremainl? Cap'n Tremain? Wheah Ah gwine fin' Cap'n Tremain, Mistah?"

Adam walked up to him. "What's your business with Captain Tremain, boy?"

The boy was craning to see more of the ship. "Lawdy, lawdy, ain't nothin' prettier dan dis ol' boat, is day?"

"Not many things," Adam tousled the boy's nappy hair. "I'm Captain Tremain. Think you can remember why you wanted to see me?"

"Oh, yassuh!" He handed a finger-smudged envelope to Adam. "Ah's s'posed to wait fo' yo' ansuh, suh."

Adam read the note, glanced up, looking over the dock area, then read it again. He carefully placed the letter in his breast pocket.

"Wheah's yo' ansuh, suh? Young miss, she say, *Willie, you bring dat man's ansuh to me, or Ah's gwine tan yo* black behin' 'til it done tun white.'"

"She said that?" Adam's eyebrows raised. He grinned at the thought that she might very well have said that.

"She sho' did, an' she mean eve'y word."

"Well, I'm her answer. Deliver me, Willie."

The boy trotted ahead, looking back every two or three paces to see that Adam was still following.

Dulcie was nervously pacing the banquette outside Bren-nan's Restaurant. She was in as great fear of Aunt Caroline finding her as she was of Adam not replying to her letter. It had taken her all morning to become "lost" from her aunt and cousins and chaperones. She walked faster in frustrated annoyance at the relatives who protected her every move.

Adam stopped at the corner, watching her skirts swish as she marched back and forth, oblivious to the scene she created.

"Ain't you comin' wiff me no mo'?" Willie asked.

Adam eyes did not leave Dulcie. "I think I can manage on my own now."

Willie's face crumpled. "But Ah ain't gwine git m ah penny. Missy say she won't give me nothin' lessen Ah brings her back a ansuh."

Adam handed Willie three shiny pennies. The small boy's eyes sparkled to rival the sunstruck coppers in his hand. "Yassuh! Thanky, suhl"

Adam touched his cap as Dulcie whirled around for her return march. She halted, her mouth open, as he smiled and began to walk toward her. He placed her hand on his arm. "Shall we have coffee?"

She nodded dumbly. Confronted by him, she was bereft of words.

He ordered for them, then sat back. "Willie said you wanted him to bring me to you, or you were going to beat him until he turned white."

"Oh! I said no such thing!"

"Well, then, I owe both you and Willie an apology. My impression was that you wanted to see me. I'm sorry to have imposed myself on you." He made to get up from his seat

She looked at him, horrified. Smiling sardonically, he settled back. He was tired of games, of bold advance and coy retreat. He never wanted to live through another time of her claiming to want something of him, only to regret her impetuosity as she had in the cabin at Mossrose. She had hated both herself and him that day, for wanting him and for being wanted by him.

Coolly he said, "When are you going to learn you can't be your daddy's sweet innocent and my woman at the same time? If you wanted me here, be honest enough to admit it when I come." He watched her trying to decide how she should answer him. Her eyes looked like liquid gold and her skin like cream. For a moment he thought she would burst into tears.

Visibly she rallied. "I wanted you to come here to meet me." She looked down into her coffee cup. "Will . . . will you tell me why you came?"

He reached across the table and took her hand, irritated by the glove that kept her soft silky skin from him. "I was surprised to see your letter. I didn't expect you to be here."

"I came to visit my cousins and Aunt Ca'line," she said too quickly, so he knew she was hiding from him again. Then she withdrew her hand from the protection of Jiis. "No. I came because I knew you'd be in New Orleans."

"And I answered your letter because I knew you'd be here."

"You're not angry with me? You don't think I'm—^that I'm one of those awful women who—^"

"Don't say any more, Dulcie. Don't say it and don't think it."

"Adam—" she allowed her hand to steal back into his— "take me somewhere. Let's walk. I just want to be near you."

New Orleans was not Mossrose. It provided no solitary path shrouded by crape myrtle. With each public building they passed, Dulcie became more aware that Aunt Caroline would learn of—and disapprove of—the coincidence by which Dulcie became lost just as Adam came into port.

She was nearly in tears. Everything began to seem gloomily impossible. Although she had mentally made her commitment to him, even to living a life of sin if need be, she was finding the practicahties extremely difficult. Everything from here out would have to originate with Adam. He would have to provide a place where they could live together for the few days each month he would be in New Orleans. He'd have to take her from her family. And no matter how she tried, she couldn't visualize Adam as the kind of man to keep a woman closeted away from decent society.

She said wearily, "I've made a terrible mess of it again, haven't I?"

He squeezed her hand. "Not a mess—but a dilemma." He hailed a taxi. Seated beside her, he kissed her cheek. "What am I to do with you now?"

"I don't know. How does one go about these things?"

"What things?" he asked warily.

"Well, you know . . . women, mistresses, and—^"

He looked down at her, not sure whether to be angry or amused. It was safer to be amused. "Well, most often women come to my hotel room."

"Oh, no! I couldn't! I could never walk into a hotel in broad daylight. Why, everyone would think ... I mean, they'd know—"

"Yes, they would. If it was the truth, you shouldn't mind. But you do mind, Dulcie, so you'd better let me take you home. Where does your Aunt Caroline live?"

Dulcie's mouth tightened. "Fm not goin' to Aunt Caroline's. Not after I've finally made up my mind and come all the way to New Orleans."

Adam frowned. "Just what do you think you're going to do?"

"If I must parade across a hotel lobby to please you, that's exactly what I will do!"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

/. "Oh, yes, I do!"

"Just like that—" he snapped his fingers—"you're going to toss away everything you've been taught"

She glared at him, her eyes flashing defiance and resentment. "I didn't toss it away! You did it for me—at Moss-rose, right under my father's nose. Or had you forgotten?"

Adam's eyes grew cold. He'd known girls reared like Dulcie. All such girls wanted—all Dulcie had wanted—was harmless flirtation. Now she saw herself as a tarnished woman, offering the lesser remains of herself to him, offering him the blame for her fall from purity as well as absolving herself of responsibility for her own passionate nature.

Suddenly the dark cabin at Mossrose, with her shrinking away froni his touch, burst in his mind, a million painful fragmented pictures. "Hell, no, I haven't forgotten! I remember all too clearly that you said you never wanted me to touch you again."