Surrender to Love (5 page)

“Let’s not be so formal,” he told her, his drawl becoming deeper and more sultry.

His mouth lowered on hers, capturing it, gently massaging, beginning the seduction he had planned so carefully.

Sabine caught her breath, and though her properness warned against him taking such liberties, she did not resist and returned his inviting kiss.  His hand left her chin, leaving a trail of hot fire as it lingered down her throat and over her shoulders.

As she reveled in the heat of his touch, Adele’s voice crept into her consciousness: 
“…Men may trifle with overzealous girls, but they will never marry them.”

The words tugged at her, but the passion he had awakened would not heed her guardian’s words.  She wanted him to kiss her, to touch her, to again feel those shivery rivulets that danced along her spine.

However, when she felt the tiny closures of her gown begin to give way, Sabine broke from impassioned embrace.

“Troy, I – “

“Don’t you want me to make you feel like a woman,” he asked, his words heavy with desire.  “”Don’t you want me to share what I feel for you?”

She was afraid to tell him no; she was afraid to consent to what was to come.  Adele had never told her anything in regard to such intimacy between a man and a woman.  But she wanted him to like her, and if she refused –

“I – I can’t.”

“What?”

Sabine was taken aback by the harshness in his voice.  She could not believe she said the words either.  For so long she had dreamed of being close to him, but now, when it came down to reality, she couldn’t go through with it.  It wasn’t right.

She tried to move away from his grasping hands, but Troy forced her to him, crushing her mouth against his.

“Say yes,” he demanded as he released her.  “You know you want it.”

“No, I don’t
,” Sabine retorted as she scrambled to her feet.

Troy caught her arm and spun her to face him.  Wickedness glinted in his eyes.

“You listen to me,” he snapped as he thrust her against the wall, pinning her with his body.  “You’ve made me wait far too long to start with this virginal attitude, Sabine.”

His hands snaked around to unfasten the closures of her gown, but Sabine drew back and struck out with her foot, striking Troy on the shin.

He let go of his hold immediately and she ducked under his arm to face him.  Her hand reached up and tore the emerald pendant from its chain and threw it at his feet.

He laughed, a derisive laugh full of scorn.  The sound of it jarred her senses, angered her.  He had deceived her, just like Mama said.  And she had been young and foolish enough to believe in him, to believe that his intentions were honorable. 

See?  Mama was right,
the mocking little voice inside her taunted. 
Right…right…right, you stupid little girl.  Whatever made you think he wanted you?

“I hate you, Troy Markham,” she spat as she made her way to the door.  “I wish I had never laid eyes on you.”

He reached out and grabbed her savagely by the wrist, forcing her against him; his eyes, ice cold, pierced her soul.

“You’re mine, he persisted through clenched teeth.  “You owe me.”

“Owe you,”
she echoed sharply. “I owe you nothing.”

“You can consider it just one of several installments you’re repaying for your parents.”

She gaped at him incredulously.  What an outlandish accusation.  Her parents had never owed a single penny to anyone.  It was simply another ruse designed to entrap her.

“Stop it,” Sabine said.  “I’ve had enough of your lies.  Let me go.”

His grip tightened when she attempted to wrench away, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her upper arm.

“Listen to me,” he commanded as he shook her forcefully.  “Three thousand dollars your folks owe me, and I’ll collect it any way I choose.  You better be ready to pay up, Sabine, or you’ll all end up on the street.”

“No, she shouted as she again kicked out at him with a booted foot.  “You’ve got it all wrong, Troy Markham. You can try all you want to blackmail me, but you can’t take my parents’ store away from them.”

He shoved her away with a snort of contempt.

“You don’t know who you’re playing with.  I suggest you check all your facts before you make any accusations.”

Freed from his grasp, Sabine fled, her heeled shoes clattering indignantly in her wake.  Troy watched her, amused.
  She’d be back; her sense of family was far too strong to allow her parents to be left out on the streets.  He would get his way; he always did.

XXX

Sabine slammed the door behind her, and only then did she allow the release of her shame and frustration.  How foolish and naïve she had been!  Why hadn’t she seen it in the first place?  The flattery.  The flirtatious looks.  The pendant.  All lures to seduce her into his bed.  Why hadn’t she been able to see it with her own eyes?  Mama was right.  Troy Markham was no good, and like a bullheaded idiot, she had refused to see the truth.

In the darkness, Sabine knelt in the cropped grass beneath the comforting arms of an oak tree
, the strains of laughter wafting out over the night breeze, Troy’s standing out among the rest.  The hot pressure of tears unloosed themselves from her eyes in a torrent, and sobs racked her body, intensifying the humiliation that encompassed her.

He had never intended to use her for anything other than his toy – something to play with until he tired of her.  Well, it wasn’t going to happen, she thought bitterly, regardless of his twisted schemes.

Why had she been so stupid?  Sabine beat her fist against the rough bark of the tree, not feeling the pain that accompanied the scrapes and bruising.  She didn’t care; it didn’t matter…not anymore.

But the nagging thoughts of Troy’s accusations assaulted her brain, compounding the confusion that already churned within her.  Three thousand dollars…her family out on the streets….  None of it made a stitch of sense.

And now Troy Markham had given her an ultimatum, and he had her trapped.  She had two choices – confront her guardians and admit her disobedience or swallow her pride and play along with his game until he tired of her.

But she had no intentions of playing his games; she wanted to be left alone.  She wanted everything to be the way it had always been – before Troy Markham had ever entered her life.

“Miss,” a voice spoke up beside her, “is there something wrong?  Something I can help you with?”

Sabine did not look up at the man who belonged to that voice.  She had had enough of men and their ways.  Why couldn’t they all just go away?”

“No,” she said, sniffling.  “Just leave me alone.  I’m fine.”

Embarrassed that anyone should bear witness to her lapse of self-restraint, she bowed her head, obscuring her tear-stained countenance with her curls.  She wiped away the tears with a trembling hand while she fished through her reticule in search of a handkerchief.  She found none, and scolded herself for being so forgetful.  After everything else that had happened this evening, a simple hankie should have been the least of her worries.  But everything had gone wrong tonight, and this was the last straw.  Her weeping began anew.

“Take this,” the man said, and held out a neatly pressed square of linen.  “It looks like you need it more than I do.”

Gratefully she accepted his offer, and dabbed at her swollen eyes.  She had to regain her composure before she returned home; these tears would not do.

“Thank you.”

She looked up at him and offered a sad, tentative smile.  The man leaned up against the tree’s trunk, his features obscured by the darkness.  The pale moonlight hinted
at the outline of a thick beard and a battered hat which he had pulled down over his brow.

“Do you need someone to escort you home?”

Sabine shook her head and rested her head up against the oak tiredly, her emotions and energy drained.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” she replied after a pause.  “You wouldn’t be wanting this back, would you,” referring to the handkerchief.

She was left unanswered.  He was gone, whoever he was, and she was left with a handkerchief she could never hope to return.  She ran her finger over the cloth’s edge before tucking it into her reticule.  Then, rising to her feet, she brushed the loose grass from her pink skirts.

She had to go home – sneak back the way she had left, feeling guilty and ashamed.  And she would have to think of a way to confront her guardians with the lies Troy Markham had flaunted before her.  Until then, however, she would have to hide her shame from everyone.

XXX

“Good God, Henry, there was under some damn tree sobbing her heart out.”

Michael Pierson sat in the corner of the rundown room over the tavern and stretched his legs out before him.  He ran a tired hand through the loose curls of his blond hair and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“So what about it,” his friend asked through a bushy moustache.  “You didn’t get
involved
did you,” he probed with narrowed eyes.  “Women are more trouble than they’re worth. You of all people should know that.”

“Did you have to remind me,” he replied impatiently, and rose to look out the window over the darkened street.  Henry was right, and maybe it was a good thing after all that she had rejected his offer of help.  He shook the ponderings from his mind.  Henry was right, he assured himself again.  He’d probably just get into more trouble.

“Any word?”

Henry poured himself another drink
.

“Yep. They’re still
lookin’, Mike.  They got word you headed south.”

“
I’m heading out before dawn.”

“
Goin’ back?”

“Cuba’s not so bad after all, I suppose.”

An uncomfortable silence permeated the room, leaving both men with their thoughts.

“So what’d she look like,” Henry asked after a spell.

“Don’t know,” Michael replied with a short laugh.  “All I saw were a bunch of skirts and about ten good handfuls of dark curls.”

“Too bad,” he joked.  “If you had gotten a better look, she might’ve been worth your swinging from a tree.”

Michael poured himself another drink from t he brown bottle.  “Don’t you think I’ve had enough of women after what’s happened over the last two years?”

Henry laughed out loud.  “Come on,” he teased.  “What’s life without some adventure?”

Michael shook his head and turned back toward the window.  Adventure, he decided as he scratched a hand through his thick beard, was something he wasn’t quite interested in anymore.

Chapter Three

Sabine leaned against the empty crate, her hungry eyes taking in the excitement that surrounded her.

Her favorite place had always been in the market area, with its air continuously fil
led with a multitude of smells: rich flowers, sweetly scented fruits, the pungent smells of the fishmongers.  She loved the marketplace, and it was possible for her to spend hours there just watching the people.  Within those few short blocks, every conceivable walk of life was represented.  Kitchen maids came to shop for the more well-to-do.  Occasionally the proud, painted ladies of the waterfront sashayed through the vendors’ stalls with their flashy clothes and snappy mouths.  Street urchins darted past, their nimble fingers picking pockets and snatching goods from unaware merchants.

What saddened her the most, though, were the freed slaves whose owners had been neglectful in making provisions for them.  Sabine believed the abolitionists had intentions that were all well and good, but it seemed they lacked the foresight as to how these people were to survive once granted their freedom.  Many of them ill-clothed, they wandered through the market, begging f
or handouts.  With little prospects, some of these people were forced to purchase produce that was barely edible; most often it was rotten.  Sabine’ heart went out to them, and although her family’s finances were not abundant, she managed once or twice to slip a few pennies to an elderly Negro woman whom she found digging through the trash in hope of finding something to eat.

She watched as two light-skinned
women sauntered by, her attention drawn from the old woman in rags who was presently digging through a bin of discarded vegetables.  Suddenly she didn’t feel envious of their rich clothing and social position anymore.  After her ordeal with Troy last week, she was glad to be the unobtrusive daughter of a shopkeeper; it wasn’t’ nearly as terrible as she had perceived it to be.

Leaning back, she retrieved a peach from her basket and bit into its succulence, catching the juice before it slipped down her chin.  No, it wasn’t so bad, she mused with satisfaction. 
She had a home, nice things, and two people who loved her more than anything.  She didn’t need fancy clothes or a gentleman to parade her around on his arm.