Sweet Silken Bondage (2 page)

Louisiana, 1842

The lean, dark-haired youth and his thoroughbred
black stallion moved as one around the corral near the
stables of the Windown plantation while a grizzled,
seasoned stablehand looked on approvingly. At thirteen
and only a few inches over five feet tall, Clay Cordell
was not yet full-grown, but he handled the horse with
the ease of a master, guiding him through his paces
with a light touch. When Clay had taken the mount
through all of his exercises, he reined him in to a slow
walk to cool him, all the while stroking the intelligent
beast's sleek neck and praising him for his grace and
ability.

"Good boy, Raven," Clay told him, his wide, gray
eyes dancing with excitement. He had trained the twoyear old stallion himself and was more than pleased
with Raven's progress. "What do you think, Ab? Will I
make a racehorse out of him yet?"

The old black man grinned at him as he answered, "I
think so, Master Clay. OF Raven's comin' right along.
Yes, sir, he sure is." He was proud of the boy and the
job he was doing with the horse.

"Thanks" Clay beamed under Ab's much-soughtafter-little-given praise. He respected Ab's opinion
more than any other man's, except his father's.

"You just keep doin' what you're doin', and Raven'll
be ready for the track real soon."

"Honest?" he asked, with youthful exuberance.

Ab nodded, his expression growing more serious.
"But just because Ravenll be ready, don't mean you
will be. The racetrack ain't no place for a boy, Clay."

Clay immediately sobered. "I know."

"Good, you remember that," Ab remarked as he
swung the gate open to let him out. "Now, take him on
in and rub him down."

Clay did as he was told, seeing to Raven's comfort
before even giving a thought to his own. As he methodically rubbed the stallion down, he let his thoughts
wander. Ever since he could remember, there was
nothing he wanted to do more than race horses. His
father had known that, and though there had never
been a lot of money available, he'd managed to get
enough together to buy Raven for him. At the time, his
mother had protested the extravagance, but his father
had overruled her, to Clay's great relief.

Clay fully intended to prove to both of them that the
money hadn't been wasted. The purses at the tracks
were large, so if he could just start racing Raven and
win...Then, when Raven's racing days were over,
they could put him out to stud and build up their
stocklines. Clay had the future all plotted out in his
mind. Cordell horses would be the talk of Louisiana,
and he would be rich beyond his wildest dreams.

Clay had just finished caring for Raven and was
starting from the stable when he caught sight of his
mother's carriage coming up the front drive. He was
delighted that she was back from her three-day shopping trip to New Orleans and he could hardly wait to
see her again. The maturity he had displayed while
dealing with the horse disappeared as he raced eagerly
for the main house.

Clay idolized his mother, the gorgeous Evaline Cordell. He thought her the most gentle, loving, beautiful woman in the world, and while most of society was in
accord with his assessment of her beauty, the other
qualities he endowed her with were not as quickly
agreed upon. Dutiful, adoring son that he was, Clay
was too young to realize that there could be another
side to her-another woman behind the motherly facade she presented him. He knew only that he loved
her with all his heart and that he was anxious to see her
again after being apart.

Evaline Cordell, an ebony-haired beauty of porcelain complexion, entrancing gray eyes and statuesque
figure, stared out the window of the carriage at the
main house as the vehicle made its way up the drive.
Her expression was filled with loathing and disgust as
she studied the structure. Plantation home indeed! she
thought nastily. True, it was a sprawling, two-story
frame home with verandas front and back, but size was
the only thing it had in common with the other, finer
plantation houses in the area. It boasted none of the
finer amenities her neighbors had, and the faded and
peeling paint gave silent testimony to its owners' desperate lack of funds.

Evaline knew it was a tribute to her pride and
strength of character that she'd managed to last this
long, living in what she considered to be such squalor,
but no more! She'd had enough! Her little "shopping"
excursion into New Orleans had proven that. She was
done with this unending life of poverty, and more
importantly, she was done with her husband, Philip.
She'd wasted too much of her life already listening to
his empty promises.

Ever since she'd left New Orleans and her secret
lover, Evaline had been preparing herself for her upcoming confrontation with Philip. Their marriage was
over now, and he was going to have to accept it. She
was leaving him, and she was never coming back. As the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the house, she
smiled cunningly to herself. Soon this farce of a life
she'd been living would be finished, and she would
finally have everything she'd always wanted... always
deserved. Once she left Philip, she would never have to
do without again. From this moment on, her life was
going to be perfect. With confidence, Evaline descended the conveyance and started up the front steps.

Philip Cordell was deeply involved in trying to figure
out how to keep the plantation running and still meet
his bills when the study door opened. He didn't appreciate the interruption, and, scowling, he looked up in
annoyance. His frown of irritation faded immediately,
though, as Evaline swept into the room. All thoughts of
his financial woes vanished before the glory of her
loveliness.

"Evaline, darling, you're back." Philip came to his
feet to greet her, his brown-eyed gaze darkening in
appreciation. He still loved his wife with the same
passionate devotion he'd had for her on their wedding
day, and he had missed her desperately during her time
away.

"Philip," Evaline said coolly, not responding to the
warmth in her husband's tone.

Struck by the iciness with which she'd spoken his
name, Philip stopped in midstride. "Is something
wrong?"

"We must talk," she answered quickly, wanting only
to get the interview over with. She had things to do
...places to go.. .people waiting for her...

"Of course, but first let me welcome you home
properly," Philip said softly as he reached for her. All he
could only think of was the excitement of holding her
again, of tasting of her wine-sweet kisses and making
her his once more.

Evaline was well aware of the effect her striking good looks had on Philip. He had often told her that her
mouth with its full lower lip just begged to be kissed,
and she could tell by his avid approach that he was
intent on doing just that right now. She, however, was
in no mood to suffer his pawings. When Philip tried to
take her in his arms, she shifted away.

"No, Philip," she dictated sternly.

"Evaline? What is it?" Philip asked.

Evaline knew she had to get this over with as quickly
as possible, and she turned on him, her manner
haughty, her expression icy. "I'm leaving you, Philip."
Her words were dripping with contempt.

By the time Clay reached the steps to the wide front
porch, his mother had already disappeared inside.
Knowing what a stickler she was about proper appearances, he paused just long enough to catch his breath,
straighten his clothing and run a taming hand through
the thickness of his windblown hair. Hoping that he
looked presentable, Clay hurried indoors only to discover that she had already gone into the study where he
knew his father was hard at work.

Clay was tempted to barge right in after her for the
door was standing partially open, but caution held him
in restraint. Earlier that morning, his father had commanded him not to interrupt him for he had some
important paperwork to do. Remembering the admonition, Clay waited impatiently behind the door just
out of sight, trying to listen to their conversation so he
could know when it was safe to go on in and welcome
his mother home.

"I'm leaving you, Philip."

His mother's declaration washed over him, draining
all the color from his face as his stomach sank in a
sudden, lurching motion. She was leaving? She'd just
gotten home. Why would she be leaving again? He
frowned, trying to understand what was going on.

Within the room neither Philip nor Evaline was
aware of their son's presence.

Philip was staring at his wife, dumbfounded. "You're
leaving?"

"Yes, Philip, I've only returned to pack my things."

"But I don't understand..." he said slowly, in total
confusion.

"Of course you don't," she told him scathingly.
"You've never understood me, and you never will!"

Philip reeled from her cruel verbal blows. His whole
life was centered on his wife. She was his world.
"Evaline, tell me what's wrong ...I'll do whatever I
can..."

"It's too late for that, Philip."

"Too late? What are you saying?"

"I've met another man..."

"Who, Evaline? I swear I'll kill the bastard!"

"He's someone who'll take care of me, Philip. Someone who will give me all the things you promised you'd
give me when we married!" She threw the words at him
accusingly.

Philip stared at his wife in disbelief and growing
fury. She'd been with another man? When she faced him
fearlessly without showing any shame, his anger exploded. He grabbed her by the upper arm and jerked
her to him. "Who's dared to steal you from me?"

"I never belonged to you, so I can't be stolen,"
Evaline snarled. She was enjoying putting him through
this torment, for she believed it little enough pay-back
for the humiliation she'd suffered through the years.
She'd been raised in a wealthy home, and Philip had
vowed that he would provide the same for her. He'd
lied.

"Evaline, I won't let him take you from me..."

"The idea to leave you was mine, Philip. Mine! I
want to leave you!" Evaline smiled at him, coldly,
viciously.

"I'll kill any man who touches you!"

"Don't bother, Philip," she sneered, twisting free of
his bruising hold. "It won't change how I feel about you
or how I feel about living here at Windown."

Philip had always placed his wife on a pedestal. He'd
adored her unquestioningly, thinking her the most
perfect woman in the world, but his blind love for her
shattered in that instant. For the first time, he saw her
for what she really was-a self-centered, spoiled
woman who cared for no one but herself. It wounded
Philip to think he could have been so wrong for so long,
and the realization stunned him. "Why you little..."

"Spare me your condemnation, Philip," she dismissed his rage with an unconcerned wave of her
delicate, perfectly manicured hand as she glanced back
at him. "I don't care what you think of me. I'm sick of
you and of this hovel you call a plantation!" Evaline's
face was a mask of disgust as she stared about the
room, noting the threadbare drapes, the worn carpet
and the old furniture. "We've been married for fourteen
years, and all I've got to show for it is this!"

"Don't do this, Evaline. Give me more time! I know
I can make Windown a showplace! Just give me a few
more years!"

"A few more years?" she scoffed. "You're a fool,
Philip. This broken-down farm is never going to pay
off!"

"No, I've got plans." He wanted to tell her of his
plans to make Windown into the best horsebreeding
plantation in the state, but she wouldn't listen.

"I want to live, Philip," she said. "I want to enjoy life,
not grow old before my time! I've found someone
who'll keep me the way I want and deserve to be kept,
and I'm going to him."

"What about our vows? You know I love you!" His
voice was strangled as he spoke. He was a proud man
who'd never begged for a thing in his life.

Evaline gave him a pained look. "I don't love you,
Philip," she declared. "Sometimes, I honestly think I never did."

At her words, Philip blanched and his heart turned
to stone in his chest.

"As soon as I pack my things, I'll be leaving," Evaline
said.

"What about Clay?" Philip almost whispered this last
plea.

"What about him?" She shrugged indifferently.
There was no room in her heart for more than her own
indulgent self-love. She considered her son more of an
annoyance than a godsend. True, he was a handsome
boy, but what would she do with a child? "He'll be fine
here with you," she dismissed.

"For God's sake, Evaline, think about what you're
doing!"

"I have thought about it, Philip! I've thought of
nothing else for months now! I can't stand being poor
any longer!"

"I won't let you go!"

"You really have nothing to say about it." Her eyes
narrowed dangerously, their gray depths shining almost silver as she thought he might try to stop her.
"Don't try to prevent me from going or bother coming
after me. It won't do you any good! I've made up my
mind."

With that, Evaline turned her back on her husband
and her past life and left the room, closing the door
behind her. Outside, to her surprise, she came face to
face with Clay.

"You heard?" She'd hoped to leave without seeing
Clay, but realized now that there was no way she was
going to be able to avoid talking to him.

"Yes," Clay stammered in bewilderment.

"Good," Evaline said coolly. She was glad he'd been
listening; now she wouldn't have to go through it again.

"Can I go with you?" he asked, his voice filled with
hope. Though he loved the plantation and his horse, at
that moment he loved her more.

"No," she snapped without even considering his request. The last thing she wanted or needed was a child
clinging to her.