Winds of the Storm (18 page)

Soon, she was screaming and he was roaring, and
la petite mort
was consuming them like kindling before wildfire. Then they collapsed; breathing, throbbing, content.

In the quiet aftermath, Zahra lay against him while he held her close. Her disguise had been breached, collapsing Madame Domino's house of cards, but at the moment she didn't care. Only her sated body and the feel of his heated skin against her own mattered.

He kissed the top of her hair, then softly asked, “Shall we talk now?”

She knew he was referring to the reason she'd come to New Orleans, and there was no way she could deny him, not now, not after what they'd shared. She also trusted him to keep his word. He'd been involved in reconnaissance and knew the dangers involved. More importantly, he'd de
ciphered the riddle of Domino and had earned the right to the truth. So she turned over on her stomach to better see his face in the dark and told him the story.

Archer found the tale fascinating, almost as fascinating as its narrator. He yearned to make love to her again, but they both needed to regain their strength, so he listened instead. It didn't surprise him that Harriet Tubman was involved. He knew how passionate she was about the race's survival and that her flair for planning secret missions during slavery and the war was legendary. “Do your girls know your secrets?”

“No. Only Alfred and the servants.”

Unable to keep from touching her, Archer trailed a finger over her silky cheek. “Would you have ever told me the truth?”

“No.”

Archer smiled, admiring her strength. “Then it's good I figured it out.”

Zahra still didn't know if it was good or not, but it was done and she was never one to cry over spilled milk. “Have you ever met her?”

“Mrs. Tubman? No. My brother Rai worked with her during abolition and in the Sea Islands. He has a lot of respect for her.” He traced a worshipping finger over a nipple. “Speaking of the islands, where'd you learn Gullah?”

Once again he made her freeze.

He smiled softly. “You've spoken it twice since we've met.”

“When?”

When he told her, she hung her head, then
shook it with a sigh. “Dammit!” she whispered fiercely again.

He grinned. “We really need to expand your cursing vocabulary.”

“No we don't. It's extensive enough. I'm attempting to be nice.”

Studying him then, she said, “I suppose I should be grateful you were the one to figure me out and not someone like Barber or Mitchell Isenbaum.”

“Isenbaum the Leaguer? What do you know about him?”

She then told him about the Death Books.

“My Lord,” he whispered. “Are there any in New Orleans?”

Without revealing Henry Adams as her source of information, Zahra told Archer all she knew. “So I have a few of my men shadowing Isenbaum. If I could place a book in the president's hand, it might make a difference.”

Deep in thought, he replied, “You're right.” Then, thinking back on something else, he said, “I wish I'd known about these books earlier.”

“Why?”

“We would have searched those houses before torching them.”

She studied him for a long moment. “You're responsible for all the fires in the newspapers?”

“Not all of them, but friends and I have done our share.”

Zahra knew she couldn't judge him. Times being what they were, someone had to take up the sword and fight back to counter the supremacists bent on annihilation, because that truly was their
goal, and they were proclaiming it proudly, and without shame, to anyone who'd listen.

“I want to talk to my friends about these Death Books. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, if they are trustworthy.”

“Good, then that's what I shall do.” He pulled her back against him and said, “With men of color in the Congress and numerous others serving in state Houses, it's imperative that we get a look at those lists and see who the supremacists have in their sights.”

Zahra agreed. Was Fred Douglass on the list? What about the Mississippian Hiram Revels, the first Black man to serve as a United States senator? Had he been targeted? All over the South, Black men were in state legislatures, were elected sheriffs, and acted as spokesmen for communities large and small. The race couldn't afford to lose even one of them, because they represented the hopes and dreams of their people. She said, “How about we meet at the house this evening, bring whoever you think might aid us, and we'll talk about it. With the house being closed tonight as it is on Monday and Tuesday. We shouldn't be disturbed.”

“That's a good idea. I'm sure my brothers would want to attend.”

“Good. Shall we say around eight?”

He nodded, then said to her, “Now that we have discussed business, will you answer one more question for me?”

“I'll try.”

His hands were moving over her with a slow
intent that let her know what would be coming next. “What's your true given name?”

“Can't tell you.”

He rolled over and lowered his mouth to her nipple. “Why not?”

She whispered in the midst of rising desire, “It's a secret.”

He slipped a hand between her thighs and began to play. “Why?”

“Because when we part we shouldn't see each other again.”

Archer raised up and looked down into her eyes. His voice concerned, he asked, “Suppose I wish to?”

She shook her head. “That's your lust talking. We're from two different worlds, Archer. You're wealthy, well bred. I'm not. I'm also not cut from mistress cloth. If you were the man of my heart, I'd be your wife, not mistress. I don't share well.”

If you were the man of my heart.
The words echoed inside Archer with a force that shouldn't have surprised him but did. He was discovering that he had rather deep feelings for this fierce, mysterious woman. Letting her walk out of his life wouldn't be easy when the time came, so it became his plan to delay that parting for as long as possible. “Well, if you won't tell me your name, what shall I call you?”

The jokester inside herself took over. “Zahra is a name I've always cottoned to.”

“Zahra,” he said, weighing the name on his tongue. “I like that too, but I will learn the truth, eventually.”

“There will be no razors to help you this time.”

“I'll find a way, don't worry.”

That decided, the loving resumed.

The sun was just waking up when he drove her home. The pink sky and the clear morning breeze signaled a new day, and it was a new day for Zahra. Archer had unmasked Domino, and she and Juliana's third son were entering a new relationship; one linked by their concern for the race and their need to make love to each other until they couldn't move. Zahra had never had the attention of such a glorious man before, and she planned to enjoy it until it became time for her to vanish from his world and, ultimately, his life. The thought saddened her, but she set it aside. Sentiment could play no part in her plans.

At the house, Archer stopped the carriage and feasted his eyes on her. She looked tired—
and for good reason,
he thought with pleasure. Had he ever met a woman more determined, more beautiful? He couldn't say that he had. She was more than he was accustomed to handling, but therein lay the challenge. Most men would attempt to cage such a beautiful
papillon,
but he sensed that would not work with her. “I'm going to wire some friends I met during the war to help with the search for the Death Books. I know they'll want to help.”

“That's fine. If we combine forces, it may hasten the process.”

“And if we combine forces, I'll see more of you.”

“As I recall, you've already seen
all
of me,” she tossed back.

He laughed at that. “What a woman you are.”

“Astounding, aren't I?”

He leaned over and kissed her sassy mouth until she saw stars. “You're all that and more. Now go inside before I see how astounding you really are.”

They shared one more long kiss, then she got out. “See you this evening?” she asked.

“Yes, and no drawers allowed,” he told her.

She was still standing there, stunned, when he let out a laugh and drove away.

 

That afternoon, Wilma brought over a set of petticoats she'd done for the twins, then she and Zahra sat in Zahra's office to talk and catch up. When Zahra confessed that Archer knew she'd been the Butterfly, Wilma was surprised. “How did he find out?”

”My daddy's razor.”

“The one with the beautiful pearl handle? Are you still carrying that thing after all this time?”

“Yes. Apparently I used it to free him from General Crete's barn.”

Wilma shook her head. “Guess the cat's out of the bag.”

“I'm holding him to his word that he'll keep my secret.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I am.”

Then Wilma asked, “Any progress on the Death Books?”

“Not so far. My people are still trailing him. Le Veq has pledged to help with the search. I'm going to meet with him and some of his associates here tonight.”

“You've taken him into your confidence quite a bit.”

There was no mistaking her censuring tone. “Yes, Wilma, I have. This is such a serious matter I'd take help from Satan himself if it would help me get my hands on one of those books.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“No.”

“Are you lying to me or to yourself?”

Zahra met her old friend's blue eyes and said truthfully, “I have feelings for him, I can't deny that, but love? I don't know.”

Wilma nodded at the logic and offered a smile. “Well, try and keep head and heart separate. There's much at stake.”

“I will. Don't worry.”

“Should I relay this news to Araminta?”

“Yes, and if she disagrees with my decision to add Archer to the game, she'll let me know in no uncertain terms, but she worked with his brother in the Sea Islands. I'm sure she'll see the advantage in including him.”

“I hope you're right.”

“And if I'm not, it's too late. As you said, the cat's out of the bag. We have no choice but to play the hand we've been given.”

“Okay. I'm going back to the shop. I'll send the wire to Araminta this evening. I'd come to the meeting tonight, but I have a wedding party scheduled for a fitting at seven-thirty. I will probably be there for hours. Is there anything else you need assistance with?”

“Not at the moment. That's more than enough, don't you think?”

Wilma smiled. “More than enough. I'll see you soon.”

“Thanks, Wilma.”

“You just be careful.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

With a wave Wilma departed.

Alone now, the pensive Zahra sat at her desk and mused over Wilma's pointed question. Had Zahra fallen in love with Le Veq? The answer depended on which part of her did the answering. Her mind said emphatically no. Nothing good could come from loving a man like Archer Le Veq. As she'd mused before, were it not for her fancy clothes and her many secrets, he wouldn't have looked at her twice. The reality of that didn't sit well with her heart, because were it asked the question of whether she'd fallen in love with Le Veq, the answer would be yes. And therein lay her dilemma. How could she fill her heart with a man she planned on leaving at the first opportunity? Men of Archer's class preferred perfumed beauties who spent their days shopping and paying calls on women just like themselves. What could he possibly see in a swamp brat who lived in a house that was smaller than his bedroom and had tar paper in the windows instead of screens? No, if Archer knew the truth about the real Zahra Lafayette, he'd wish her luck and send her on her way. So, because the last thing she needed was to return to South Carolina with a broken heart, she vowed to keep her love for him to herself.

 

“She's who?” Raimond asked in an incredulous tone.

“The Butterfly,” Archer repeated.

“Araminta's Butterfly?”

“One and the same.”

“I'm impressed.”

“So am I. She saved my life, remember?”

“Why's she here?”

Archer told Raimond the story, including the information about the Death Books. The news disturbed Raimond as much as it had Archer.

Raimond asked, “Does she know if there are any in New Orleans?”

“Not yet, but she's looking. I figured we could help.”

“Most certainly.”

Raimond studied his brother for a moment before saying, “So you were right about her not being a whore.”

“Yes.”

“I'm glad. I liked her.”

“Thanks.”

“But what's going to happen once she's done here? You're aware she's called the Butterfly because she never stays in one place.”

“I plan to cross that bridge when it comes.”

After Raimond left with a promise to be at Domino's house for the evening meeting, Archer thought about the woman he'd agreed to call Zahra. He had one more level of her identity to crack, and it would be the hardest by far. She'd be on her guard from now on and wouldn't surrender the truth easily. He knew enough about Mrs. Tubman to be certain that asking her for answers would be futile. She'd never reveal Zahra's secrets.

 

Domino's Gentleman's Club was closed Monday through Wednesday. The girls usually used the free days to sleep, shop, and make money on the side with private dates, sometimes at the man's home, but more often at one of the city's hotels. They all had dates tonight and were getting dressed. By eight that evening, everyone was gone except Matilda, who was waiting for Mitchell Isenbaum.

“I hope nothing's happened,” Matilda said as she stood by the window. “He was going to take me to a little place he has up near Baton Rouge.”