Each Time We Love (34 page)

Glancing away from the love and fear she glimpsed in her
mother's eyes, Savanna said huskily, "I might not be pregnant, and
until we know for certain that I am, I think we should put the matter
from us." She looked back at Elizabeth, smiling mistily. "And if I am,
how much better off I'll be than you were… unless you plan to imitate
your brother and throw me penniless out of the house."

Elizabeth hugged her fiercely. "As if I would, darling! As if
I would!"

Nothing more was said on the matter, although in the days that
passed, Savanna was aware that her mother watched her anxiously. Bodene
had made a lightning trip to New Orleans to see that all was in order
at his gambling hall, The Golden Lady, returning to Campo de Verde
almost immediately. He, too, watched Savanna, the same flicker of
concern in his eyes that Savanna caught all too often in Elizabeth's
gaze. And yet, the question of her pregnancy or lack of it aside, the
days were pleasant and tranquil and Savanna was surprised at how easily
and comfortably she slipped into the routine of the household. She was
exhausted from the long journey and during the first week spent hours
and hours either in bed asleep or lounging about the house, talking
idly with her mother and Bodene. For the moment, she was content to
drift. She ate prodigiously and gradually the gauntness left her
features, and as the signs of strain began to fade she threw herself
into helping Elizabeth with the running of the plantation and one hot,
sunny day blended into another.

Every day she prayed for a sign that she was not pregnant, but
there was nothing. She was aware that her breasts seemed more tender,
perhaps even fuller, but she told herself that it was only a precursor
to the one sign that she most desperately wanted to appear. Finally, on
a morning some three weeks after she had returned to Campo de Verde,
her body gave proof of her condition. She woke early and, rising from
her bed as usual, felt the room tilt wildly and became thoroughly,
violently, ill. The nausea passed, but as she stood there staring
blindly into space, she recognized the truth, the terrible truth that
she had tried so frantically to deny: she was going to bear Adam St.
Clair a child…

IT
TOOK SAVANNA several more days before she could bring
herself to tell her mother and Bodene. She had frantically hoped that
she had been mistaken, that her morning attack of illness had been
merely an aberration, but such was not the case; and on the twelfth
morning in a row when she woke to the now familiar dizzy sensation that
preceded the horrible gagging which inevitably followed it, she knew
that there was nothing to be gained by keeping her mouth shut.

Neither Elizabeth nor Bodene seemed surprised when she finally
admitted her condition that evening as they all sat in the back parlor,
the ladies sipping a final glass of lemonade, Bodene nursing a tumbler
of whiskey. Elizabeth paled at the news, but patting Savanna's hand
gently as she sat on the sofa beside her, she said bracingly, "Well! My
very first grandchild! I shall look forward to its arrival."

Bodene, lounging in the chintz-covered chair across from them,
sent a sour look in their direction. His gaze locked on Savanna's rigid
features, he asked harshly, "Have you written to Adam?"

"No!" she stated tightly. "And I don't intend to!" She looked
down at her hands, which were clenched in her lap, and in a tone of
bitter unhappiness, she added, "What happened between us meant
nothing!" Honesty forcing her to say, "At least to him, and I see
absolutely no reason to write to him! If there wasn't going to be a
child, you could wager The Golden Lady on the fact that Adam St. Clair
wouldn't
ever
come within a crooked mile of me!
Just
because
I'm going to have his child—a child
he never planned on or wanted in the first place—doesn't change my mind
about him—or his about me! What happens now is no concern of his!"

"He's the child's father, for God's sake!" Bodene exploded
angrily. "Don't you think that gives him at least the right to know of
it?"

Savanna's chin jutted stubbornly. "We've been here at Campo de
Verde for a month—if he were the tiniest bit interested," she said
painfully, "don't you think that he would have made some attempt to
write or find out for himself?"

"If I remember correctly," Bodene replied with an effort, "he
asked that you write
him!"

"Yes, darling," Elizabeth broke in gently, "I remember
distinctly, the evening you explained everything to me, that you and
Bodene both mentioned that Adam had asked that you send a message to
him." Peering into Savanna's unhappy face, she added softly, "Don't you
think that would be a good idea? Now that you know for certain you are
carrying his child? At least to let him know of it?"

Savanna's eyes closed in anguish. She had no ready argument to
fling back at them and miserably she admitted that their questions were
both logical and valid—hadn't she been struggling to answer those same
damnable questions since the moment she had discovered that she was
pregnant? One part of her acknowledged fairly that Adam
should
be informed of his impending fatherhood, but there was another part of
her that shrank instinctively from such a step. Every fiber of her
being cried out against telling Adam, because she knew that once he
learned of the coming child, he would move heaven and earth in his
attempts to force her to marry him… and she was very aware that in a
moment of weakness she might give in, making an unhappy situation
utterly unbearable for all of them!

Realizing that the others were still waiting for a reply, she
stared at her hands and muttered, "I'm sorry! I know you both want what
you think is best for me and the child, but I don't believe that
informing him is the best solution. I—I don't want to be forced into
marriage by anyone, not you, not Adam St. Clair." She raised her eyes
and stared at Bodene. "And I want your promise that you will not tell
him."

Bodene fixed a long, speculative look on her, noting again the
fine-drawn loveliness of her face, the fierce, stubborn pride that was
evident in every stiffly held line of her body. It was obvious that
further argument was useless, and equally obvious from the glint in her
eyes that she wasn't going to leave him alone until he gave his word.
His mouth hardened. "Very well," he muttered at last, his eyes not
meeting hers.

Savanna didn't trust him, and leaning forward tensely, she
demanded urgently, "Say it!"

Bodene took a long swallow of his whiskey and, slamming the
tumbler down on the oak table, growled, "I will not say a word to Adam
St. Clair— there, are you satisfied?"

She still wasn't quite satisfied, but she could tell from the
set expression on his face that he had offered her all the reassurance
he was going to, and she would have to be content. Some of the
tenseness drained slowly out of her body and she sank back against the
sofa. "Thank you, Bodene," she said softly. "I know you think I'm
wrong"—she glanced fondly at her mother—"and you, too, but nothing has
changed. Adam never cared for me—nor I for him," she added hastily.
"Even though I am definitely pregnant, all of the reasons I stated in
the beginning about why I didn't agree to marry him when he asked me
are still valid."

Bodene snorted disgustedly and, rising to his feet, said
grimly, "Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I'm going to spend a few
hours in the office and see just what I can do to make the next
generation's future a bit better than ours has been so far!"

Twenty minutes later, he glanced up from the letter he was
writing to see Elizabeth peeking around the doorframe. A distracted
expression on her face, she came in quickly and shut the door behind
her.

The office had originally been a small storeroom at the side
of the house, but under Elizabeth's guidance, it had been transformed
into an extremely pleasant and functional place to handle the affairs
of the plantation. A couple of oak bookcases were situated along one
wall; a wide, long table with various small farming implements
scattered across it, as well as a tray with glasses and liquors, graced
the other; and at one end of the room were the big desk and leather
chair where Bodene sat. There were two comfortable chairs in worn
velvet in front of the desk, and slipping into one of them, Elizabeth
fixed worried aquamarine eyes on Bodene's face.

She looked, he thought tenderly as he stared at her, very
lovely in her gown of blue sprigged muslin, the strawberry-blond hair
caught up neatly in a bun which lay on the nape of her neck. But
instead of the normal tranquility he usually saw in her eyes, they were
full of anxiety; and ever ready to shelter her from any blow that he
could, Bodene said softly, "Don't look so worried, Liza—everything will
be just fine! You'll see!"

Elizabeth stared at him uncertainly, biting her full lower
lip. "Oh, Bodene! How can you be so certain? I've prayed and prayed
that she would find a nice, ordinary man and marry and live a
happy,
respectable life. And now this! I don't think that I can bear to watch
her suffer the contempt and scorn of all of our friends and neighbors
once the truth comes out."

Elizabeth glanced away, tears glistening in her eyes. "It is
horrible to have people look at you as if you were some sort of filthy
rubble beneath their feet. And the men! They think that you are a
shameless slut—always ready for a tumble and eagerly craving their
crude advances! I simply cannot endure the thought of Savanna having to
go through that! There must be a way that we can spare her the shame
and degradation that will come. We
must!"

Moved by her words, Bodene came to kneel on one knee at the
side of her chair. Taking one of her slim hands in his, he murmured,
"Liza! Don't fret so! I promise you that no one is going to dare put
Savanna through what you suffered! I wasn't old enough to protect you
in the beginning—but let one man
dare
treat
Savanna that way, and he'll have me to answer to!"

There was such savage determination in his deep voice that
Elizabeth regarded him with love and dread. "Bodene, I know you would
lay down your life for both of us, but you cannot always act as a
buffer for us against the world." She sent him a searching look. "How
do you think Savanna would feel if you were to die in a duel because of
her?"

Bodene smiled wickedly. "I'm very good with both the pistol
and the sword, my dear—in my business one has to be—and so I think it
highly unlikely that I would be the loser in any contest on the dueling
field. But to set your mind at rest… I don't believe that I am going to
have to risk my life for Savanna's honor. Savanna will
not
face what you did—rest assured of that!"

Puzzled, she stared at him, his words ringing with clear
conviction. "How can you be so sure?" she asked huskily. "If Savanna
will have nothing to do with this Adam St. Clair, I cannot see anything
but unhappiness ahead." Suspicion suddenly narrowing her gaze, she
demanded sharply, "What do you know that I don't?"