Fire and Ice Read online

One day she was strolling in Jean’s gardens when she glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway. She approached him and boldly asked, “Dominique, are you shadowing me by any chance?”

  White teeth gleaming, he grinned. “You finally caught me.”

  “Why? Did Reed ask you to?”

  “No, petit, I took it on myself to see to your safety. There are those on the island who do not know how to treat a lady, and wouldn’t recognize one if he saw her.”

  They walked together down the garden paths. “The only person I’ve had a problem with so far has been Rosita,” she confided quietly.

  He nodded, and after a few paces said simply, “She is a little tramp. I will try to keep her occupied so she will have little time to cause trouble.”

  “She loves him,” Kathleen offered.

  “Reed is out of her class. She must learn to content herself with those who are on her level.”

  “You are not on her level, either, Dominique,” Kathleen assessed. “I sense you are a gentleman born and bred.”

  “Those green eyes are too sharp,” he stated quietly.

  “I won’t divulge your secret, sir.” She smiled up at him. “You are Jean’s brother aren’t you?”

  A startled look crossed his dark face and disappeared as quickly as it came, to be replaced by a scowl. “No one knows this but Jean, Pierre, and Reed.” Then he added, “And now you.”

  She touched his arm. “Have no fear, for I’ll tell no one. What is your given name?”

  “Alexandre,” he admitted, and he told her how he had killed a Spanish prison guard and changed his name when he came to Louisiana. He was believed dead in a shipwreck, or he would be a hunted man now. He told her of his childhood on St. Dominique with Jean and Pierre and the five other children. He spoke of the slave uprisings on the island, and how they had eventually fled to New Orleans. He talked quietly, weighing his words carefully, studying her face.

  She in turn told him of Ireland and her childhood. She related her father’s death, and that of Nanna, and her subsequent marriage to Reed. But Kathleen said nothing of her father’s shipping firm, nor of Reed’s deceit, letting him think Reed had indeed married her to save her reputation.

  When she had finished her tale, she said softly, “I wish you were my brother instead of Jean’s.”

  “And I wish I were Reed instead of Dominique You,” he laughed.

  “But he does not love me,” she sighed.

  “I think you are wrong, little one,” Dominique counseled. “He just doesn’t realize it or won’t admit it. Either way, the man is a fool.” At her frown, he added, “And you love him, too.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he gently laid a calloused finger against her lips. “I see it in your eyes.”

  “I like you, Dominique, my handsome pirate friend.”

  He stopped short, drew out his knife, and reached for her hand. She gave it trustingly. “If you still wish to have me for a brother, I can make it so,” he offered. At her nod, he pricked her finger with his knife, and his also. When the blood appeared, he joined hers with his, and said quietly, “Now I am your blood brother, and you are my sister.”

  “It’s not often you get to choose your relatives,” she observed with a smile.

  “If you are in trouble; if ever you need help, turn to me, little sister, and I will be there. Remember this.”

  Eyes shining with unshed tears, she stood on tiptoes, kissed him on his scarred cheek, and whispered, “I’ll remember.” Quickly she fled for home before the tears could fall.

  From then on, whenever Kathleen roamed the island, Dominique was along. With his big bulk, he silently dared anyone to interfere with her. She enjoyed his company, and since he treated her as a gentleman should, showing only respect, Reed did not seem to mind too much at first.

  In order to give her escort some time to himself, Kathleen took up painting. Reed sent to New Orleans for her art supplies, and Jean opened his garden to her. There she set up her easel, and drew the statues one by one. Not knowing how long they would stay on Grande Terre, she penciled each first, adding detail as time passed. Later she would add the oils that would bring these stone gods and goddesses to life in vibrant color.

  She was sitting before her easel one early afternoon when a sentry shouted that Pierre’s ship was sighted. Pandemonium broke loose as everyone ran down to the docks to greet the returning brother and his crew. Curious as she was, when Dominique poked his head into the garden to ask her to accompany him, she declined.

  “You go ahead, Dom. You don’t need me there while you try to talk to him. Besides, it will be hot and crowded on the docks, and I would probably run into Rosita. I will meet him soon. I’m sure.”

  She was still sitting there drawing an hour later when the men burst into the gallery. Reed, Jean, and Dominique were all eagerly questioning Pierre about his voyage. Pierre broke off in mid-sentence, sighting Kathleen.

  “Ho! Brother Jean! Have you added another goddess to your collection? I like this one better than the others. She looks warmer, and has more color.”

  Kathleen looked up to see a shorter, sloppier version of Jean coming toward her. He had Jean’s coloring, and similar features, but had an unkempt appearance that Jean never did, and an impudent attitude where Jean was more reserved.

  She looked hurriedly toward Reed, noting the dark scowl on his handsome face. Dominique stepped quickly ahead of Pierre. “This is Reed’s wife, Pierre, and a fine lady. Show respect or I’ll throttle you if Reed doesn’t first.”

  Pierre, promptly changing tactics, bent low over her hand, and grazing his lips across it, commented, “My congratulations to you both on your nuptials.” The spark in his hazel eyes belied his words.

  Pulling her hand away, Kathleen replied primly, “I am pleased to meet you, Monsieur Lafitte. Jean has mentioned you often.”

  “Can it be that all the fire is in the hair?” Pierre inquired in jest, raising his eyebrows at Reed.

  “Not quite all,” Reed said stiffly.

  “Reed,” Kathleen interjected, “could you or Dominique spare a few minutes to help me carry my sketches home? I am quite finished here for today.”

  “Dominique will. I’m sure, Kat. I have a few things to discuss here. I’ll be along soon.”

  “May I offer my assistance?” Pierre volunteered.

  “No, thank you. We will manage fine,” she informed him coolly as she and Dominique gathered up her supplies and departed.

  Reed was still upset when he arrived at the guest house. He thundered up the stairs like a wounded bull. As he burst into the bedroom where Kathleen was resting, she grumbled sleepily, “Reed, for heaven’s sake, you are making enough noise to wake the dead.”

  He stood at the end of the bed glowering at her. “What is it?” she asked testily. “What have I done now?”

  “Nothing, I suppose, but do you have to be so eternally beautiful? Every man you meet falls at your feet! Jean contends you are one of the most ravishing women he’s met, Venley is star-struck, Dominique is at your beck and call. And that I can put up with, but that rutting banty rooster, Pierre, is too much!”

  Kathleen stared at him in amazement. “Well, it seems you are the only one immune to my charms,” she retorted. “Perhaps you can invent a cure for all the other unfortunates. If I try really hard, perhaps I can make myself ugly. Would a homely wife better suit you?”

  “Don’t be silly!” he exclaimed.

  “Silly? I’m not the one tearing around the room like a dog with a burr under his tail.”

  “All right. I’m overreacting, but I’ll warn you now,” he said gruffly as he sat on the bed and yanked her to him. “Don’t let me catch you batting those big, green cat eyes of yours at him, or I’ll thrash you soundly. What is mine, I keep!” That said, he bent his head and crushed his lips to hers possessively, commanding her response to his blazing kisses.

  As they dressed for dinner, Kathleen suggested to Reed that he go alone. “I will be the
only woman there.”

  “You have been all week, and it hasn’t bothered you.”

  “Yes, but with Venley gone again, there were only four of us, and I like Jean and Dominique. It was interesting to hear you talk of your adventures at sea and your daring exploits.”

  “And now?” he asked.

  “Now Pierre will be there, too, and the four of you could talk business if I took dinner alone here,” she ventured.

  He paused to mull it over in his mind. “No,” he decided. “You cannot hide away. Pierre simply must learn to control his urges, or pay the consequences.”

  “And you to control your beastly temper,” she supplied. “Personally, I am getting very tired of having you rail at me everytime something does not go your way.”

  He came to her, folding her tenderly in his strong arms. “I’m sorry, kitten. I have been acting like a bear lately, haven’t I?”

  “No. More like an angry jungle cat,” she murmured against his broad chest. Lifting her lips to his, she said softly, “Don’t growl so much. Purr for me instead, my sleek, black panther.” She ran her slim fingers through his ebony hair, her green eyes sparkling.

  “We’ll be late for dinner,” he predicted, already carrying her toward the bed.

  “Better a cold dinner than an unsatisfied wife,” she joked.

  “Woman, you are insatiable!”

  “Stop complaining, and start doing something about it,” she giggled, and then shrieked as he smacked her on the rump.

  By scurrying about, they arrived at Jean’s only a few minutes late. Kathleen looked flustered, and at Jean’s wry smirk, her face turned beet red. Reed laughed heartily and leaned to her ear. “I told you so.”

  She darted him a sly look out of the corner of her eyes and wrinkled her nose at him saucily.

  Pierre entered the dining room a short time later, his arm clasped around Rosita’s waist. At Jean’s questioning look, he plopped her into a chair next to his. “I invited Rosita to dine with us. I thought she might liven things up somewhat.”

  Kathleen groaned inwardly, trying desperately to keep her face in placid lines. Reed seemed about to explode in mirth, and the slight frown on Jean’s brow was mild compared to the dark look on Dominique’s face.

  Rosita bestowed a flashing smile on Reed, and a smug look toward Kathleen. Pierre bellowed, “Jude! Get your lazy carcass in here! I could use some service! And bring another plate for my guest!”

  Kathleen jumped when he shouted. Dominique gave her a look that clearly showed his embarrassment for his younger brother. She smiled sweetly at him, letting him know she understood.

  Pierre caught only her smile. “Ah, the goddess smiles after all, and she bestows such sweet looks on old Dominique here. Could it be the honeymoon is over so soon, Reed?” he teased. “Perhaps your young bride has a roving eye?”

  “Don’t push me too far, Pierre,” Reed warned lightly.

  “I wouldn’t be one to talk of roving eyes, Pierre. Not with a loving wife and children waiting in New Orleans,” Jean admonished. “Everyone, including dear Francoise knows of the way you behave when you are gone from her. I often wonder why she puts up wth you, brother.”

  “It is because I am so charming, I suppose,” Pierre replied, undaunted.

  At this, Kathleen promptly choked on her food, hiding her mouth behind her napkin as she coughed delicately. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, making them shimmer even more merrily.

  “Oh, Reed,” she gasped. “Help me up, please, I need some air.”

  Reed led her out into the garden as Dominique grinned broadly into his plate. Jean was pretending to dab his mouth with his napkin, while hiding a smile, and Rosita and Pierre wore confused looks. Reed had his head bent toward Kathleen’s, faking concern.

  “Oh dear, thank you for rescuing me,” Kathleen giggled into his shirt. “I was about to die in there. It struck me so funny!”

  “I know,” he chuckled back, “and the funniest thing is that Pierre was so sincere.”

  They returned to the table, their composure restored. Rosita was shoveling her food down as if there were to be no tomorrow. Even Pierre began to realize his mistake in bringing her. Kathleen kept her eyes demurely on her plate, hoping she could keep a straight face for the rest of the meal. When the meal was finished, Jean, realizing that they could not leave Kathleen to entertain Rosita, suggested that they all adjourn to the gallery for brandy, provided the women would allow the gentlemen their cigars.

  Once outside, Kathleen left the men and Rosita to their conversation and wandered about the gardens in the moonlight. She sat on a shadowed bench near Venus, watching the stars twinkling above her. Some inner voice urged her to look back toward the gallery. There she saw Rosita sidle up next to Reed, who was lounging against one of the pillars. Kathleen watched as the woman ran her hand up his arm and reached inside his open shirt to stroke his chest. He brushed her aside as one would a pesky mosquito, but she persisted. She rubbed the full length of her body against his side, then reached up to nibble at his ear.

  Kathleen did not wait to see Reed’s reaction. It was more than she could bear. On slippered feet, she ran toward the far corner of the garden, deep in shadows. Strong arms reached out for her, and before she could scream, one hard hand clamped across her mouth.

  “Now, cherie,” Pierre’s sneering voice sounded in her ear, “while Reed is occupied with Rosita, we will find a little recreation of our own. I sense a fire beneath that cold exterior you put on.”

  As she struggled to free herself, he pulled her deeper into the darkness of the trees. One hand still on her mouth, and pinning her arms against her sides, he pushed his other hand down inside her bodice. The delicate fabric ripped away, baring her breasts to his large, abusing paw.

  While he was ogling her, she worked her arm free.

  Giving him a vicous jab in the ribs, she pushed herself free. Then, before he could recover, she spun about to face him and delivered a mighty kick to his groin. As he grunted and doubled over in pain, she sped down the path toward the gallery, pulling the torn bodice together with shaking hands. Weeping through tear-filled eyes, she saw Rosita still openly fondling her husband.

  Jean and Dominique sighted her as she neared the gallery, and were instantly on their feet. Reed, whose back was to the garden, spun around to see what had alarmed them. He pushed Rosita aside and started toward Kathleen, his eyes narrowing as he took in her disheveled appearance.

  Rosita’s voice resounded clearly in the night air. “Well, look at who’s been for a romp in the garden!”

  Kathleen stopped abruptly. She glared long and hard at the two of them. Knocking Reed’s arm aside, she snarled, “Don’t let me interrupt your fun, Reed! Go back to your games with your slut! She’s welcome to you!”

  She turned pleading eyes on Dominique. “Please! Take me home!”

  As Dominique moved to her side, Reed tried to intervene. Jean reached out, firmly clamping his hands on Reed’s arms, holding him back as Dominique gently led Kathleen away, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

  Late as it was, Kathleen requested a bath, and proceeded to scrub as if the devil himself had touched her. She wept until she had no more tears, and then sobbed dryly. She lay awake for hours, listening for Reed’s return, dreading the scene that would follow. As the downstairs clock marked off the wee hours of the morning, she began to wonder where he was, and what he was doing. She waited anxiously, longing to hear his footsteps on the stairs. Finally, as dawn tinged the sky, she gave up her lonely vigil, angrily imagining him locked in Rosita’s embrace.

  “Oh, God, how I love him! He could never hurt me this way if I didn’t. Why?” she sobbed. “Why must he always hurt me so? Coldly, deliberately wounding me. He’s taught me to need him; to long for him, to love him, and now he turns to her.”

  She rose from the bed and went to the washbowl. Soaking a washcloth in cool water, she dabbed at her swollen eyes. Studying herself in the mirror, she asked h
er image, “Why do you cry so over him? You’ve known since your wedding night how deceitful he is. He stole the Kat-Ann didn’t he?

  “But he can be so charming when he wants to be,” she argued with trembling lips. “He is so strong; so tall and sleek, with the body and face of Apollo. He is so handsome with his icy blue eyes and dark hair. And he is such a marvelous, masterful lover, at once tender and demanding. How could I help falling in love with him?

  “Ha!” her second self expounded. “Strong arms, a broad chest, slim hips, and other ample endowments are all you care about, huh? What about true love, honesty, fidelity? So he awakens your passions, sets your very soul on fire! It is nothing without love, you fool! Stop being such a sniveling ninny! You’ve made a mistake, but learn from it. A broken heart is not fatal. Weren’t you the one who swore vengeance on his head? Aren’t you interested any longer in paying him back for his treachery?

  “You’re right,” she said to the girl in the mirror. “I’ll give that jackal what he so justly deserves, and when he cries out for mercy, I’ll give him no quarter! He may have won a battle, but we’ll see who wins the war! I only wish it didn’t tear me up so inside. Dying must be far less painful!” she choked.

  Kathleen felt as if she had just gotten to sleep when Reed stumbled up the stairs and into the room. She shut her eyes tightly, feigning sleep.

  “I know you’re not asleep, Kat,” he muttered. He plopped on the bed beside her. “Order me up a bath.”

  “Order your own bath,” she snapped, rolling over with her back to him.

  “No need to scream,” he groaned, holding both hands to his throbbing head. Easing himself off the bed, he wobbled over and tugged the bell-pull, sinking into the chair beside it. When Joe arrived to answer his ring, he was told to prepare a bath.

  “Yes, suh.” He bobbed his gray head. “I’ll get Mae to help me empty dis ole tub right way,” he said and scurried off.

  It was then that Reed noticed the yellow dress Kathleen had worn the night before. It was lying in a heap next to the tub. Leaning forward in his chair, he retrieved it from the floor. He puzzled a moment over the torn bodice before his mind registered the events of the previous evening. A dark look crossed his face, drawing his brows together.