Surrender to Love (4 page)

She could not accept the pendant, no matter how fervently she wanted it; it wouldn’t be right. But a dinner invitation!  Surely there was no harm in accepting that!

“Mama, can I – “

‘No,” Adele countered sharply before the question was finished.

“But I haven’t even – “

“No,” she repeated firmly around the pinched white of her tight lips.  “You can’t have it.  And you’re not going.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Sabine said as she closed the box, her green eyes flashing with indignant fire.  “I’m almost eighteen, Mama.  Troy’s not at all what you think he is.  He likes me, Mama.  He’s nice to me.  Why are you trying to ruin everything?”

“I’m not trying to ruin anything for you, Sabine,” Adele snapped.  “It’s just that – “

“I love him,” Sabine shouted as she moved past Adele and headed for the stairs.  “And I know he loves me, too!”

“He’s using you, Sabine.”

Sabine stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs and faced Adele, her eyes narrowing to angry slits.

“You’re wrong, Mama,” she said coldly. “You’re wrong.”

XXX

Sabine slammed the door of her room and fell onto the bed.

How could she?
  She thought venomously.  How could Mama say such things?  She didn’t know anything about love or romance or anything that mattered.  All she knew was running this stupid store and ordering her around.

Well, no matter, she though as she angrily straightened her skirts with a snap of a hand.  Mama would have nothing to say about where she was going Saturday night. 
Troy Markham had asked her to supper…and she was going to be there, come hell or high water.

XXX

Three thousand dollars.  He must be mistaken.  Troy counted the column of figures again to be sure his addition was correct.  It was truly incredible. Over the past seventeen years or so his father had loaned a small fortune to the DuBoises, yet he had never collected a cent in repayment.  A strange arrangement, to be sure, for he had always been fastidious with his accounts.  There had to be some rational explanation for all this.

Bu
t there would be no immediate resolutions, for his father, Clinton Markham, lay ill upstairs with pneumonia and Troy was no burdened with the responsibility of running the business.  It was not something he wanted to do, but something that was expected of him.

Muttering a curse, he leaned back in the heavy oak chair and wished his mother were still alive.  His father had told him a countless number of times how involved she had been with him in all aspects of running the warehouse and shipping industries.
  Unladylike it was, her consorting with the rough types that worked the docks, but it was said she had commanded respect, and it was given to her by all.

Troy frowned, and the deep creases of discontent marred his handsome features.  He couldn’t even remember what his mother looked like, unless, of course, he counted the portrait that hung above the mantel in the dining room.  Never before in the
twenty years since her death had he missed her, until now, when it seemed that all of life’s burdens had piled themselves upon his shoulders.

He closed the ledger sharply and  scowled at its stiff paper cover.  Enough of his mother.  And enough of these financial accountings.  Three thousand dollars was more than just a pittance, and he simply could not comprehend his father’s laxity in collecting the debts from John and Adele
DuBois.

Well, he concluded, if this business was now his responsibility, then he would be certain to collect his due.

XXX

The cooling breeze of the late June evening caressed the gentle curve of Sabine’s neck
as Peter, the Markhams’ driver, picked up the pace of the matched bays.  Nervousness coiled itself into an acidy knot in the pit of her stomach, and her hands played restlessly with the small reticule that lay in her lap.

It hadn’t been so difficult sneaking out tonight, she considered as her gaze briefly met Troy’s before fluttering back to settle on her hands.  The black iron work and the oak tree that grew beside her window had proven to be willing accomplices in her plan.  But still, even though her heart sang out in triumph at being here with him, the small voice inside her head continued to insist
that her desires were nothing more than a foolish girl’s fantasy.

“There’s no reason to be uneasy,” Troy commented and leaned across toward her.

“No, I suppose not,” she stammered, but the feeling would not cease.  They were alone, and while the sweet anticipation of it had continually filled her dreams, the reality was far more unsettling than she ever expected.

“My cousin Maribel will be meeting us later,” he said encouragingly.

“Oh.”

The simple word sounded strange to Sabine’s ears – as though someone else had replied in her place.  Suddenly she felt awkward, misplaced.  And in her heart, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she knew she had no right to be here in this rich man’s carriage.

“I want tonight to be special.”

She fought back a smile as a surge of elation flooded her, dissipating the unsettling feeling within her breast.
  Oh, Mama, you were so wrong, Sabine thought as the uneasiness faded away.  And I’ll say it a thousand times until you believe me.  Troy loves me; really, he does.

“You didn’t like the necklace,” Troy queried after some length.  “I notice you’re not wearing it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sabine said in a rush.  “It’s just that…I don’t think I ought to accept it.”

She loosened the drawstrings that held her reticule and drew out the jeweler’s box.  She held it out to him in the palm of her hand.

Troy cocked and eyebrow at her inquisitively.  He was sure she would fall for the trinket.  They all did – every single woman he had taken as a mistress in the past.  With a wry smile, he took the proffered box and opened it.

“Then would you do the honor of wearing it for me just for tonight?”

He moved across the carriage to sit next to her, and he fastened the finely crafted chain around her neck.  He trailed its length against the warmness of her bare skin, hesitating briefly at the swell of her breasts, withdrawing when he felt her stiffen warily under his touch.

“You were a clever minx to sneak out tonight the way you did.”

“I wanted to see you,” she whispered.

Troy moved his hand up the sensitive inside of her arm, his fingers brushing against the side of her breast.  She stiffened, and hesitantly moved away from him.

“And I’m glad you came,” he whispered hotly in her ear and he held her attention with his gaze.  “We’ll be dining at nine, but Maribel thought it might first be nice to meet at out other home here in the city,” he said quietly.  “Do you mind?  I invited some of my friends over.  It would give them an opportunity to see how wonderful you are.  It’s just a short walk up the street.”

He did not give her an opportunity to reply, but motioned for Peter to stop the carriage.  Sabine’s head swirled with a million apprehensive thoughts as he helped her from the vehicle.  He brushed her skirts free from the wheel.  The warmth of his hands burned through the cotton of her dress as they rested on her waist.  She closed her eyes and allowed him to step close to her, her heart quickening at his nearness.

“Peter, meet us out front around nine.”

“
Yessuh, Masta Troy,” he responded and whipped up the horses into a smart trot, driving away.

A fleeting moment of indecision filled her, but she brushed it away.  They were completely alone now.  Just the two of them, just the way she had always dreamed.  And there
was absolutely no reason why she should feel uncomfortable.  Troy had never made any improper advances in the past.  There was nothing to fear; she trusted him.

But after a few steps she balked, a sudden surge of anxiet
y paralyzing her.  She couldn’t go.  She couldn’t possibly go and meet these people.  What if they thought of her as nothing more than a harlot?  What would she say?  What would she do?  Would they laugh and mock her at every opportunity?

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I – maybe – “

“You have nothing to worry abou
t.  My friends are a lot of fun; just wait and see.”

Sabine smiled, but it ended at her lips, never reaching her eyes.  The unsettling comfort permeating her instincts persisted, though she attempted once more to force them from her thoughts.  She breathed a sigh of relief when the feeling evaporated as Troy tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and looked down at her with a rakish grin.

“Come on,” he prompted, and motioned to the house in front of him.  “It’ll be fun.”

They stood before the three story brick structure, light and laughter spilling out the open windows and onto the flagstone walk.  A woman’s silhouette drifted across the fluttering curtain
, followed by her coquettish giggling.

Anxiousness and yearning alternately played on Sabine’s taut nerves.  Perhaps it would not be so terrible, she reasoned, with Troy at her side.  Maybe, just maybe…

“Do you think you could wait a minute or two,” Troy asked, his lips casually brushing against her temple.  “I’d like to get some paperwork out of the way first.  Business, you know.  There’s an office adjacent to the back of the house.  No one will even know we’re there.”

Sabine swallowed hard and turned to him, gnawing her lower lip uncertainly.  The very notion of being alone with him seemed so…well, so
unnatural
.  It made her blood run cold.

“I’m not so sure….” Her voice trailed off.  “About going, I mean.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

His words echoed in her brain.  Of course she trusted him; but still, there was something she couldn’t put her finger on…

She silently chastised herself for thinking such things.  Troy Markham had always acted the gentleman, and he had never given her reason to believe otherwise.  Stop it, Sabine, she told herself.

“Well,” he repeated his question.  “Don’t you?”

The laughter inside the house increased in volume, filling her headed, surrounding her.  Suddenly it all seemed so surreal – this night, this house; it was as though everything was a dream and Sabine was observing it all in her head.  None of it was real; none of it was right.  But she didn’t want to lose everything she had because of some harebrained insecurity that was totally unfounded.

“Of course,” she told him quickly, and smiled as brightly as her thoughts would allow.

“Good.”

He quickly led her to the rear of the house and unlocked the door to the addition that had been built onto it.

“I’ll wait here,” Sabine said as she stood beside the door.

“Please,” Troy urged gently as he lit a kerosene lamp.  “It could take a few minutes.  Why don’t you come sit in the study while I find those papers?”

Reluctantly she agreed with a vague of her shoulders, and followed him through the rooms to the rear study.  Though sparsely furnished, the room carried an air of simple elegance from its papered walls down to the patterned carpeting.  How beautiful and different it was from the plain simplicity she had grown up knowing.

“Would you care for a glass of wine while you wait,” he asked as he settled her on the divan.  He motioned to the bottle
on the table next to her.  “It’s French.”

The cork released itself with a pop and Troy poured the white wine into a stemmed glass. With a mischievous wink he passed it to her.

“To a beautiful woman,” he toasted.

Sabine blushed at his compliment and averted her eyes from his piercing gaze. So profuse his flattery was; she knew she could never become completely comfortable with it.  But still, she longed to hear the words to hear the words that made her feel beautiful and special.

She sipped at the wine, quietly watching Troy rummage through the drawers of his desk, the muffled sounds of laughter coming from behind the plastered walls.  The mellowed bitterness of the drink relaxed her, and she snuggled into the velvet padding of the divan.

“It’s almost half past eight,” she observed after a spell.  “Shouldn’t we be going to supper?”

Troy looked up sharply.  Damn.  In his own plan to deceive her, he had almost forgotten about his seduction.  She rested appealingly against the back of the settee, soft curves hidden beneath the folds of her gown.  He felt himself harden and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized and rose from his seat.  “I’m finished.”

He approached her, appraising her openly with his gaze.

“You
are
beautiful,” he commented as he sat down next to her.

His
eyes dropped to the floor and examined the intricate pattern of the wool rug.  “Please, Mr. Markham, I don’t think – “

His hand cupped her small chin and caressed her jaw with the pad of his thumb.  He coaxed her emerald eyes to me
et his.