Surrender to Love (3 page)

How could she have been such a fool,
the nagging little voice inside her head shouted accusingly. 
Fool.  Just a foolish, little seventeen-year old mulatto girl hoping for things she could never have.

She refused to allow the tears of anger and humiliation spill over her cheeks.  Swallowing her injured pride and shattered dreams, Sabine stared after him as he brought in their order of goods.

But she breathed a sigh of relief.  At least he had kept his distance; what would she have done if he dared to approach her otherwise? How ludicrous it was that these thoughts came to her.  She knew it sounded terribly ridiculous to think that way, but it would have been incredibly naïve of her to believe that every person of the male sex was a gallant knight in shining armor.  Sabine had overheard the gossip in the streets of the market place more than once.

And she was not a complete fool.  She knew what this man was.

He handed over the invoice slowly, deliberately brushing his hand against the curve of her breast.  The muscles of her stomach contracted violently, but she ignored his gesture and averted her eyes subserviently.  She signed the piece of paper with a trembling hand, placing an X where her signature, with all its flourishes and curlicues, should have been.  Sabine then squared her shoulders and handed him the sheet.

“I know ‘bout you half-
nigra gals,” he purred softly.  “All hot and fire.  Why don’tcha let me show you a little heat, huh?”

“I-I’m not sure what you mean.”

His eyes gazed at her levelly with a glint of malice. “I’m sure you do.”

Indignation filled her at the insinuation he had made.  How dare he say such a thing!  Before she took the time to think of her actions, she reached out and soundly slapped him across the face.  A look of surprise crossed the man’s features and he muttered a curse.  Dazed, she slowly rubbed the stinging sensation from her palm while she fought back the tears of humiliation that began to form.  With green eyes of icy fire she silently slid the proffered form across the counter toward him.

“I could have you strung up for hittin’ a white man,” he snarled as he massaged his jaw.

“I don’t care.”

He smiled then, wickedly, as he shoved the invoice paper into his pocket.  “Might change your mind if you was lookin’ at a hangman’s noose, nigra girl.  Or thirty lashes.”

He left in a hurry, nearly shattering the door’s glass behind him, and leaving in his wake the noisy jingling of bells.  Tears of anger and humiliation that she had been struggling to hold back now began to spill over her cheeks.  How could she have ever let that man goad her into striking him?  He was right; she could be severely punished for that action.  The tight lump of fear
melted from within her and was washed away by her tears.

She dashed them away when she heard John come to the front of the store.  Smoothing her pink skirts, she nervously turned her back to him so he would not bear witness to her tearstained countenance.  She drew a wavering breath and began to put the newly delivered items in their rightful places.

“Sabine,” he called out.  ”Did everything come?”

She did not face him, but continue to fuss restlessly with the delivery.

“Yes, Papa,” she answered in a quavering voice.

“What’s wrong, kitten,” he asked, placing a hand tenderly on her trembling shoulder.

“Nothing,” came her quick reply as she moved quickly past him and headed for the stairs.

She darted up the steps in a rush of tapping heels and concealed herself behind the door of her small bedroom.  She hated this – hated being seen as something that didn’t really matter.  Couldn’t they see she was a person?  A person with thoughts and feelings and dreams?  Why did they ignore her?  And why was it, that when they did pay even the least bit of attention to her, they treated her as though she were nothing more than an insignificant toy?

But that was all they’d ever see her as, wasn’t it?  Something to amuse themselves with. Something to laugh at.

Sabine swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand
as she slowly removed her dress and packed it carefully in her trunk.  With it, she stored away her youthful dreams…her dreams that she
could
be accepted; her dreams that the world might someday look at her and see a person worthy of respect.

But it would never happen here – not in New Orleans.  And the dress – the wonderful, beautiful dress that she believed would unlock a brand new tomorrow – was no longer a symbol of the person she thought she would become.

Chapter Two

Sabine stared idly out of the shop window, her green eyes taking in the sodden, vacant streets.  Six weeks had passed and Troy had yet to return.  Disappointment encompassed her heart, but she refused to reveal the discontent that welled inside her, knowing that Mama would only lecture her again about false hopes; and Papa would laugh and dismiss her feelings as silly infatuation.

With a sigh of resignation, she tucked herself behind the counter and picked up a worn volume that John had given her the day before.  How thankful she was that Adele had tutored her over the years – especially when the schooling of Negroes was forbidden by law; she would have been so lonely without wonderful characters to share her time.

Amid the soothing tones of pattering raindrops, Sabine lost herself completely to a world of knights and ladies fair.  She imagined how wonderful it would be to have a gallant warrior sweep her onto his horse and whisk her away to the countryside….  She sighed, remembering it was merely a story, a fantasy.

The tinkling of the door’s bell diverted her attention, and she glanced up to identify the crazy man who had dared to venture out in this torrent.  His features were obscured by the collar of the frock coat he had turned up to ward off the rain.

“May I help you,” Sabine inquired hesitantly.

He turned then, and Sabine felt her heart flutter within her breast.  She should have recognized him immediately.  Troy Markham removed his hat and brushed aside the chestnut locks that had fallen haphazardly across his brow.

Her heart pounded, and warm fingers of nervousness tugged at her insides as she took in every aspect of him.  So long it had been, and here she was, face to face, without
one rehearsed word of speech.  Oh, God, she had better not make a fool of herself!  An awkward smile played on her lips and she found it difficult to meet his gaze for any length of time.

“Good afternoon, Miss
DuBois,” he drawled as he brushed droplets from his shoulders.

Words she had so often longed to say now stuck fast in her throat.  She felt like a foolish child.  She knew Troy was probably looking at her in the same fashion.

“It’s Troy Markham,” he offered, revealing that dazzling smile of his that send Sabine yearning to melt in his arms.

“Yes,” she managed to whisper hoarsely, “yes, I know.”

His gaze discomfited her, and her eyes riveted to the counter before her.

“I-it’s been a long time since we’ve seen you, Mr. Markham,” she stammered, but her heart sang out as she said his name aloud.  How many times had she repeated that name over and over again?

“It most certainly has, Miss DuBois,” he agreed as his blue eyes tried to search hers.

God, she was evasive, he thought impatiently.  Why didn’t she just brazenly reach for him like every other whore on the waterfront?  His glance swept over her shapely form, but she did not seem to notice.  He leaned over the counter and rested his elbows on it.  Casually, deliberately, his hand brushed hers.

Sabine started, but the shivers he sent through her nearly caused her to be delirious.  He had touched her, and that meant he had definitely taken notice.  He had not kept a cold distance, as he so often had done in the past; and she was positive wonderful things would now be in store for her.  To have finally gained his attentions…

A rush of emotions flooded Sabine’s center, twisting and burning as Troy’s fingertips lingered against the slender curve of her wrist.  He must truly see her then, she decided her gaze intent on the masculine hand that rested so near to hers.  And
she prayed he saw her not as a simple Negro girl who wasn’t worth more than a cursory glance, but instead as a girl who mattered; a girl who was worthy of his notice.

“George will be bringing everything inside,” Troy said lazily.

Sabine’s heart quickened as her gaze locked with his and she barely noticed the burly Negro man who passed behind him.  Dampness and cold permeated the shop, and she shivered, though she could not say whether it was due to the rain or the thrill of Troy’s presence.

Uncomfortable with his piercing stare, she averted her eyes to the worn wood of the counter.  So incredibly masculine he was, and Sabine was unsettled by his forward gestures.  But oh, she could just imagine how grand it would be to be seen
promenading down one of the fashionable streets of the city on Troy Markham’s arm.  She would wear a fancy gown and bonnet and be the envy of everyone who passed, because, naturally, she would be with the handsomest man in all of New Orleans.

“Are you happy here?” Troy probed quietly, hoping to draw her attention
s to him completely.

Sabine drew an astonished breath as she was abruptly brought out of her reverie and flushed hot with embarrassment.

“Yes,” she stammered, taken aback by his strange questioning.  “Yes, I am.”

Awkwardly she took the invoice, reluctantly tearing her eyes from the gaze that held her captive.  With a flustered hand she signed the bottom, careful not to
muss her signature with stray drops of ink.

“Have a good afternoon, Miss Sabine
DuBois,” he stated with a sink and a smile, and planted his hat firmly on his head.

He left then, leaving Sabine with only the pattering of raindrops and the solitary retreat of a horse’s hooves.  Her heart raced in the afterglow of their meeting, and it was all she could do not to waltz across the floor, to revel in his words, his touch.

A few steps escaped her, and she succumbed, allowing herself to glide across the floor with unpracticed steps.

“Why, yes, Mr. Markham,” she tittered to the broom she held as a dance partner.  “I would love to accompany you to the governor’s ball…
.  What?...  Oh, please, sir, you flatter me far too much.  I could not possibly accept such a marriage proposal….  A trip to Europe?...  Why, then, I’ll most certainly reconsider your offer.”

With a hopeful heart, Sabine collapsed onto the stool behind the counter.  Eyes bright with expectation, she stared out into the grey rain and found it beautiful.

XXX

Troy gritted his teeth, enduring the deluge that poured down upon him and eventually found its way down his back.  Only a damned fool would be out in this weather, and he was just that.  Was all this game playing worth just to get a half-bred girl into bed? He couldn’t possibly understand why she was acting so coy, when she had probably serviced every young buck who’d uttered a couple of words to her. Well, he’d play her game, if that’s what she wanted, but in the end he would win…and get what he had set his sights on.

“George, will you get this damned thing out of here,” he snapped at the driver in frustration.

“
Yessuh,” the Negro man replied quickly and moved the bay horse into a quick trot.

XXX

Sabine stared at the brightly wrapped package the young Negro boy had left on the counter.  She was sure it must be a mistake, but the boy said it was “fer Miz Sabine DuBois” and there was no possible way to doubt that.

“What do you think it is?” she asked Adele.

Sabine’s nimble fingers plucked at the ribbon, and the paper fell away, revealing the dark blue of a velvet jeweler’s box.  Lifting the lid, she drew in a breath sharply as her gaze fell upon the emerald pendant that rested on a pillow of white silk.  She raised the necklace from its box and watched it sparkle in the late morning sunlight.

Adele stiffened as she watched Sabine marvel at it, anxiety tightening within her.  She knew, without looking at the accompanying note, w
ho had sent the package.  Troy Markham was up to no good with his tempting offers; she had known that the minute he had shown an interest in Sabine.  The young man toyed with her like a cat with a piece of string, and fairly soon he would tire of her – just as soon as he had accomplished whatever heinous plan he had concocted.

Adele refused to allow it. 
Her daughter would not be hurt and she cared not that Troy Markham had the power and resources to put them all out on the street.  Today she would put an end to all this, and lay down the law.  She had no intentions of allowing a society gentleman to use her ward as his fancy lady.

“Oh, look, Mama,” Sabine said, mesmerized as she slowly drew out the enclosed note.  “
’An emerald charm for emerald eyes.  Would you do me the honor of dining with me on Saturday?  Troy Markham.’
”

Sabine’s green eyes widened, words failing her.  He had sent her jewelry – beautiful, fancy jewelry that in the past she had only been able to admire from afar.  See, Mama, she thought, he’s different.  He’s not at all what you say.