Destiny's Daughter (38 page)

"Your skin is so lovely," he said, holding the knife to her heart. "It seems a shame to stain it with your blood."

"Montagnet." Chase’s voice was a low growl of pain.

They both looked up at the sound of that single word.

"Let the lady go and I’ll tell you anything you want to know."

Montagnet threw back his head and laughed. The sound sent needles of fear through Annalisa’s heart. "Be assured, you will tell me everything I want to know. When I’m through with the lady. I wouldn’t miss this pleasure. I’ve been waiting too long."

"Charles, if you turn Chase loose, I’ll . . ." She swallowed, and forced herself to keep her tone even. ". . . cooperate with you. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be loyal to you. I’ll—please you. I’ll stay with you for as long as you choose."

Montagnet’s voice purred. "So. The two of you are so blinded by your love for each other, you’re willing to suffer anything for the sake of the other."

"That isn’t true," Annalisa cried. "Chase has only pretended to love me in order to gain information."

At Chase’s incredulous look, she said softly, "I overheard you the night I was kidnapped. I know you were only pretending to care about me."

"It was a lie," Chase said between clenched teeth. How his words must have hurt her. He cursed himself for his clumsy attempt to hide his true feelings from his informer. "I lied thinking I was protecting you."

"How noble," Montagnet sneered. "It simply makes my lot easier. First, my dear, I will do to you what I’ve been planning since I first saw you. And when I’m through with you, I’ll have the information I desire from your lover. Or he can watch while I slowly kill you." Turning to Chase he added, "You see, I enjoy killing helpless women. I’ve been enjoying it since I was a lad."

With his knife, Montagnet slit Annalisa’s gown from neck to waist, leaving a thin line of blood that trickled over her breasts.

Enraged, Chase lunged forward, still tied to the chair. Montagnet lifted his gun and fired. Someone screamed. The sound seemed to reverberate through Annalisa’s mind until all she could hear was the echo of gunfire mingled with the sound of the screams. And then she realized the screams were hers.

Dazed, she dropped to her knees and began fumbling with the ropes that bound Chase. Blood oozed from his chest.

"Leave him. Your lover is dead."

Dead. Chase dead. Dazed, Annalisa felt her own body grow cold. She didn’t want to live without him. The desire to fight slowly drained from her. Her vision blurred. Her head swam. It was no longer possible to concentrate on anything except the fact that this monster had killed Chase, and soon, she would join him in death. Why should she fight? Life without Chase would be a living death.

As Montagnet’s hand snaked out to grab her shoulder, she stared at the jewels at his cuffs, winking in the light of the lantern. A vision of her mother’s pale, delicate face flashed before her. Her eyes narrowed. Her words were stiff, stilted. "Where did you get those jewels?"

He glanced at his cuffs. "Unusual, aren’t they? Rubies, surrounded by diamonds, twisted into a figure eight. Even though they’re worth a fortune, I’ve resisted selling them. I have a passion for unusual beauty."

"You didn’t say where you got them."

Through a fog of pain, Chase glanced up at Annalisa. Her voice had lowered dangerously. There was a hardness in her eyes he’d never seen before. But though he tried, he could neither move nor speak.

"I took them off a woman I robbed years ago."

"A woman you enjoyed raping and beating?"

Montagnet’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her shoulders as he lifted her to her feet. "Yes. She was small and helpless, like you."

"Not like me." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "She was frail, and also swollen with child."

A frown creased his brow. "How could you possibly know that?"

Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t bother to wipe them. Staring at the devil whose image swam before her, she realized that it wasn’t just cruelty she’d seen in him—it was madness. "That woman was my mother."

"Your mother?" Montagnet smiled, then threw back his head and laughed. "Your mother? I’m going to have the privilege of raping both mother and daughter?"

In the back of her mind, Annalisa heard Sister Marie Therese’s voice intoning, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me."

Annalisa’s fists clenched and unclenched at her side. Something hard scraped her palm. The little gun Chase had given her. In the pocket of her gown. How could she have forgotten?

Though his vision was blurred by blood streaking his eyes, Chase saw Annalisa’s hand disappear into the folds of her gown. Struggling against the restraining ropes, he felt pain explode through him. With his voice no more than a croak, he tried to caution her. This was a madman, driven by a lust for blood. A wound would only enrage him.

"I do this for Chase, Monsieur Montagnet. And for my mother." Something glinted in her hand. Glancing down, the villain’s eyes widened as he heard the sound of the gun, and then felt the sudden shock of the bullet as it exploded inside him.

A fire seemed to spread through his body, at first numbing him, then causing him to clutch at his chest. His hand holding the gun lifted to her head. "You little bitch. You’ll pay . . ."

She fired again and saw his body recoil from the shock. And then, almost in slow motion, his hand dropped to his side and he pitched forward, crashing into the table, knocking the lantern to the floor.

Flames raced along the cabin floor, then leaped across the blanket on the bunk.

Ignoring the fire, Annalisa wrapped her arms around Chase, needing to hold him close, needing to touch him one last time. She heard his quick little intake of breath and stared at him in shock. Placing her hand over his heart, she felt the faint, unsteady rhythm. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks.

"Chase. Oh, Chase. Are you really alive?" Reaching for a knife, she cut his ropes and cradled his head in her arms. "Can you stand?"

"Right now," he gasped weakly, "I think I could float."

Nate stood in the doorway with his pistol in his hand. A slow smile spread across his ashen cheeks. "My God! I thought I was too late."

"Oh, Nate. Chase has been badly wounded. Can you carry him?"

Hurrying forward, Nate helped Chase to his feet, then gave a fearful look at the flames that roared across the wooden ceiling. "We have to get out of here. This ship will go up like a torch."

"What about the others?"

"Two are dead." Nate looked sad for a moment. "I had to kill them. Two jumped overboard. I think one of them was Willis."

"Forgive me, old friend," Chase whispered. "Your ship was spotted at the wharf late at night depositing strangers. Strangers who donned hoods and masks and terrorized the citizens of New Orleans. With your many absences, I suspected you of being behind that cruel scheme."

"And you must forgive me," Nate said, gripping his friend tightly. "Locked in my own grief, I often stayed for days in the springhouse, where my wife and infant daughter had died. I should have offered to help my neighbors a long time ago."

With his arm about Nate’s shoulder, Chase staggered to the main deck. Already flames were licking across the deck and dancing up the rigging.

"What took you so long?" They turned as Emile Soulet’s head poked above the railing. On his shoulder the lop-eared cat balanced precariously. "Come on. I’m waitin’ to ferry you back to shore. And from the looks of things, you’ll soon have no boat left under you."

Chase glanced around for Annalisa and was relieved to see her appear above deck. Once in Soulet’s boat, he lay back, wondering if there were any part of his body that didn’t ache. He was one continuous mass of pain.

"Where were you?"

She saw the worry etched in his eyes. "I wanted to retrieve my ledgers. And I took my mother’s jewels from Montagnet’s body. I couldn’t bear to think of them on him." Drawing her arms around his neck, she leaned close and whispered, "Oh, Chase. I love you so much. I thought I had lost you." Rubbing her lips over his, she murmured, "You look terrible."

"And if I weren’t about to faint, I’d tell you how wonderful you look." With that, he slumped against her and lost consciousness.

"Does he sleep still?" Hattie Lee peered into the room before entering and pausing at the side of the bed.

"The doctor’s potions are working their magic." Annalisa lay in the big old feather bed and watched as Chase slept beside her.

"Has he awakened at all?"

"Several times. He’s aware that he is safe and that Montagnet is dead. And I think he knows where he is. But he drifts in and out."

"Dr. Lynch brought news from the city. A group of powerful men from Washington arrived today. They were sent by the president himself. Notices have been sent to all citizens to appear at Jackson Square to testify about any wrongdoing by any public officials."

Chase lay very still, absorbing the sound of the voices that faded, then seemed to grow stronger. The powder that Dr. Lynch had given him had taken the sharp edge from his pain. But the pain was still there, dull and throbbing. A voice sounded very close beside him, and he felt the familiar thrill at the husky quality. Annalisa. She was here. The scent that was uniquely hers. The gentle touch of her hand.

A second voice, rich, honeyed, was like a soothing balm. Hattie Lee. She was saying something that pushed the sleep from his mind. He tried to focus, but the words seemed to blur and run together. Confused, he gave up trying. He would just sleep awhile longer. Then he would remember what important thing she had said.

"You sleep too, child. You’re not as strong as you think."

The door closed behind the black woman. Annalisa continued watching Chase, brushing a lock of damp hair from his forehead, smoothing the sheets.

She’d marveled at the patience with which Dr. Lynch had probed Chase’s wounds, removing the bullet, cutting away infection. Standing by his side, the fastidious Gabrielle discovered new strengths within herself as she swabbed, disinfected, and bound his wounds. Annalisa smiled to herself. Those two would do just fine together, if they ever found the courage to admit their love.

Courage. Annalisa had witnessed so much of it.

In their battle on the boat, Nate had rediscovered the survival skills he had thought lost forever. And in the process he had recovered his self-esteem. Francine and the other women had fought bravely beside Luther and Jessie, and had once again driven off the hooded cowards. With the death of their leader, Montagnet, Annalisa fervently prayed that the hooded terrorists would disband and leave the people of New Orleans alone.

Chase. What courage it must have taken to pretend to be a man of low morals when in fact he was engaged in a noble endeavor. But how effective he had been. Even when they had grown close in their lovemaking, she had been convinced that he was nothing more than a gambler.

"What day is it?"

Hearing the sound of Chase’s deep voice, Annalisa swallowed the lump that rose to her throat. Oh, how she had longed to hear him speak again.

"Sunday. You’ve been sleeping for five days."

"Is that why I feel so rested?"

"Do you? Are you in any pain?"

"Any pain? I hurt everywhere."

He gave a ragged sound that might have been a chuckle, and she touched a hand to his chest, feeling the rumble of his laughter through her skin. "Oh, I’ve missed hearing you laugh," she sighed, touching her lips to his.

"Umm. That feels good." He pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly, while the last clouds of sleep disappeared.

Desire surfaced instantly. He was amazed at the needs that swamped him. How was it possible to wake from a long sleep and think only of having her? His voice deepened with emotion. "Maybe you could kiss away all the hurt."

Bringing her lips against his, she murmured, "How I’ve missed you here in my bed, here in my arms."

He felt himself shattered by her honesty. As her lips began a slow journey of exploration, he moaned. It wasn’t the bat- ties that left him weak; they exhilarated him. It wasn’t his wounds that drained him; they were healing quickly. It was this woman. The need for her. The heady fragrance of roses and the woman scent of her. Those clever, agile fingers and those soft lips. He felt himself slip over the edge of sanity and tumble into a world of wild, swirling sensations. And then there was no pain. There was only Annalisa. She encompassed him, and he lost himself in her.

*  *  *

Late afternoon sunlight made patterns on the walls and ceiling. Far out on the river, a boat’s horn sounded. The sweet fragrance of roses and magnolias filled the room. Tangled in the sheets, Annalisa and Chase lay in each other’s arms.

"Feeling better?"

She heard his deep chuckle and smiled.

"You’ve kissed away all the pain."

"Good. Then I suppose you’d like me to stop?"

"Never." Pulling her close, he nuzzled her temple and gave a long sigh of contentment. "I can’t remember the last time I felt so lazy."

"I think it was the last time you came to my bed."

He laughed. "You’re right. You must be like a witch’s brew—I taste you and lose my appetite for everything but you."

"Good. I intend to keep you here forever."

Lifting a handful of her hair, he watched as it sifted through his fingers. "Forever doesn’t exist." He remembered the words Hattie Lee had spoken, was it hours ago, or days ago? His voice lowered. "Tomorrow, I have to be in New Orleans."

"Dr. Lynch said you weren’t to do a thing for at least a week."

Chase’s voice became very calm. "I heard Hattie Lee say that the presidential commission is here to take the testimony of the citizens of New Orleans."

"You knew about it?"

He decided not to tell her that he was responsible for its presence here. He simply nodded.

"Testimony about what?"

"Land grabbing, hooded terrorists, the misuse of bank money, fraudulent elections." He shrugged. "And anything else the citizens want the president to investigate."

She remembered insulting comments she had overheard, hurled in defiance by the men of this town. "How can the people of New Orleans believe that a war general like President Grant would care what is happening to us?"

"Because," Chase said patiently, "the president wants this country to mend its wounds. And the best way to do that is to get rid of the corruption and go directly to the people."

"Chase, how could you have let me believe that Nate was the Archangel of Mercy?"

He went very still.

"Would you have ever told me the truth?" she persisted.

He shrugged. "That day by the willow, I thought you had guessed. When you finally told me you suspected Nate, and concocted that idea to filter information through me, it seemed the perfect solution."

"I can understand that you didn’t want anyone to know your identity. But why couldn’t you trust me?"

He heard the sadness in her tone and winced. "I believed that the less you knew, the safer you would be. I was wrong."

"But you let me go on heaping praise on Nate, practically adoring him, when a simple word would have changed my feelings toward him. And toward you."

His eyes were dark and fathomless as they held hers. "He had your respect. I had your love. I told myself that was enough."

Annalisa’s voice lowered. "Now you have both." In the uncomfortable silence between them, she asked, "Why did you lie to that stranger in the shadows about your true feelings for me?"

Chase felt a burst of pain and remorse. "The man was one of my contacts. He was clerking in the bank and was able to let me know how much money the Archangel needed to supply. I thought, by denying my love for you, I could keep you separate from all that was happening. Maybe I even foolishly believed that by denying those feelings aloud, I could pretend I wasn’t hopelessly in love with you."

Feeling elation at his words made her bolder. "Can you tell me now about the words you and Montagnet spoke on Nate’s boat? They made little sense to me."

Twisting her hair about his finger, he studied her for long moments, then took a deep breath. She deserved the truth.

"I suppose the story begins with my father. He was a bit of a rogue."

At Annalisa’s soft laughter, he glared at her. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Of course I do. But at least now I know how you happened to inherit that rogue’s personality."

Touching a finger to her lips to silence her, he went on, "My father grew up in the bayou country, running illegal goods through various ports. He also managed to do a lot of good for the poor people of Louisiana. When he met my mother, a proper Boston lady, it was love at first sight. He pursued her across the country but was thwarted by her family, who were prosperous shipbuilders. They especially resented him because they thought of him as a pirate."

"Was he? Oh, Chase. That was you who happened to be on that pirate boat, wasn’t it?"

Chase gave her a lopsided smile. "No more interruptions."

Snuggling closer, Annalisa absently played with the hair on his chest and forced herself to remain silent.

"When her family refused them permission to marry, my father simply sailed into Boston Harbor on his ship, the Destiny, and asked her if she would be willing to sail away with him. My mother said yes, and they sailed the Caribbean for the next year. I was born on the high seas. When they returned, they presented my mother’s parents with their first grandchild. Though they still objected to their daughter’s choice, my proper Boston grandparents had to accept the marriage."

"What a wonderful love story," Annalisa said dreamily. "Were you close?"

"Very," Chase murmured. "And I grew to love my Boston family as much as my Louisiana family. But that presented a problem. When the South seceded, I found myself in a terrible position—one shared by many. No matter which side I chose to fight on, I would be fighting my own kin." His voice remained expressionless. "Maybe I was more fortunate than most. Because of certain . . . talents I possess, coming from a line of respected smugglers, President Lincoln asked me to act as his special emissary."

She let the words sink in. "You were a spy?"

With a gentle shake of his head, he said, "With a letter from both the president and General Lee, along with the goods I smuggled, I carried dispatches between the Union forces and the Confederacy. You see, during the fighting, they were the only lines of communication. In the course of my actions, I was in the unique position of discovering many secrets. Among them, I discovered a military leader who was using his position to further his own personal fortune."

"Montagnet."

Chase nodded. "I knew him first as Louis Lafleur. The man was a disgrace. Because of his villainy, I was left for dead. But the war was winding down, and there were too many other crises more compelling than Lafleur. By the time all the evidence was in, he had changed his name and had ingratiated himself to the governor. Because of his attacks on you, I had him investigated. When I found out who he was, I realized that he had made a great many political friends who offered to look the other way at his past transgressions. With his visions of grandeur, I have no doubt that he believed he could one day be president."

Annalisa shuddered at the thought. "And what about you, Chase? Did your spying ..." Seeing his frown, she chose her words more carefully. "... special duties end with the war?"

He shook his head. "The president was killed before he could implement many of his ideas. But it was believed in Washington that his successor needed my work to continue. And when President Johnson was succeeded by President Grant, my work went on."

She gave Chase a hopeful smile. "Is your job now over?"

He stared at the ceiling, avoiding her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was a monotone. "I suppose as long as there are men like Montagnet in this world, a job like mine is never done."

Annalisa lay very still, absorbing the shock. He was trying to tell her, as gently as he could, that he would be going back to Washington, to do what he did so well. How could she stand in his way? The country needed brave men like Chase. She felt like weeping. She had wanted him to be brave, noble. "Be careful what you pray for," Sister Marie Therese used to say, "or you may get it." Chase was her heroic Archangel of Mercy. And because of his work, he could never be hers.

But I need him, her heart cried. Without him I’ll go back to being alone and achingly lonely. Rolling away to hide her fears, she crossed the room and mechanically began to dress.

"The smuggling," she began, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her. "Did you really do that, or was it just a ploy?"

"It’s what my father did," he said, sounding like the rogue she’d first met. "It’s what I do best. The president explained that if I were caught, I could expect no aid from Washington. I would be condemned as a common criminal. Of course," he added with a smile in his voice, "I suppose someday I’ll have to join my Boston family in shipbuilding. It’s much more respectable, don’t you think?"

How could he make jokes when her heart was breaking? "The money you gave to the landowners." She licked her dry lips. "Was that given you by the president?"

His voice was so low she had to strain to hear it. "I did that on my own. It wasn’t part of my job."

"But there was so much money needed, Chase," she protested.

"My family made a great deal of money building ships during the war. Those ships saved a great many lives. They also inflicted much pain. It seemed a fair exchange to give some of the profits back to the people I love."

They both grew quiet. Annalisa digested all that he had told her.

The sun drifted behind a cloud, leaving the room in shadow. She felt a heaviness across her heart. She was so proud of Chase. But there was no joy in the knowledge that he was everything her heart had ever yearned for. Because he could never belong to her. His world was far more important than her narrow little world. There was no place for her in his life.

And if she truly loved him, she would have to be prepared to let him go.