The Lady's Hand Read online

  "Brandy?"

  She almost jumped at the sound of Marc's voice nearby. Quickly disguising the turmoil of her emotions, she turned to smile at him. "Good evening, Marc."

  "What are you doing out here all alone?" He glanced around, expecting to see Rafe hovering somewhere, but there was no sign of him.

  "I just needed a breath of fresh air."

  "I've heard the good news of your betrothal. I think you're perfect for Rafe."

  "You do?" She stared at him in surprise, wondering what Rafe had said to the man, for he sounded sincere.

  "I do. In fact, I'm sure he didn't mention it to you, but the first night I saw you, I told Rafe you would make him the perfect wife. I'm glad he listened to my advice. He usually doesn't."

  "It's nice to know you approve." She found herself relaxing in his company. She liked Marc. He was a straightforward, honest man, who harbored no deceit in him unlike his friend. "I wonder how Merrie's going to take the news, though. When we last talked, I think she wanted Rafe for herself. She was saying that she hoped he would wait for her to grow up before he took a wife."

  Marc laughed. "If she had to lose Rafe to anyone, I'm glad it's you. I think you're going be very happy together."

  If you only knew, she thought painfully. But she answered, "I hope so. It's rather exciting, happening as quickly as it did. Up until the moment he...proposed, I had no idea of his feelings."

  "Once you get to know him, you'll discover that he's not quite as hard as he seems."

  "I'm sure," she lied, thinking Rafe was truly one of the most calculating, cold-blooded men she'd ever met.

  "Has he told you much about his family or Bellerive?"

  "We talked about it a little over dinner tonight. His home sounds magnificent."

  "It is, and he has one of the best stables in three counties. His father started it years ago, and Rafe's been working on building it up ever since."

  "Did his parents die when he was young?"

  "He was fourteen when his father died. His mother passed away a few years after that."

  "Were they close?"

  "He and his father were. His mother..." Marc paused, wondering just how much to reveal.

  "What about her?"

  "Let me put it this way to be kind. She wasn't a shining example of chaste and virtuous womanhood. It was a bad situation, and the world suffered no great loss when she was no longer in it."

  "So his parents' marriage wasn't a happy one?" She sensed there was much more to the story than Marc was telling her, but she wasn't quite sure how to get at it without prying.

  "No, and especially not at the end."

  "At the end?" She was confused.

  "His mother deserted the family. That's why I was so surprised when Rafe told me you two were going to marry. He doesn't hold a high opinion of women or marriage, and I had begun to wonder if he would ever take a wife."

  "How terrible for him."

  "Up until you, he hasn't trusted women at all. But you... you're different." Marc smiled kindly at her.

  "Different, good?"

  "Definitely different, good. Has he talked to you about hiring a chaperone yet? I mentioned it to him earlier today because I was concerned about your reputation. It wouldn't do to put you in a compromising situation."

  "It was very kind of you to think of me." She smiled at him with heartfelt warmth. Besides Ben, Marc seemed to be the only man who treated her as if she were a real lady, and his respect touched her deeply. "And yes, we did speak of it."

  "I have an idea where we can find someone suitable. My wife Jennette was born and raised in St. Louis. She attended a prominent academy for girls there, and I think they might be able to recommend someone for the job. As soon as we reach town, we'll look into it."

  "It's awfully kind of you to help this way."

  "Marc is always glad to help," Rafe said as he appeared on deck nearby to find the two of them talking and smiling at each other. For some reason, it irked him to see her being so pleasant to Marc when she'd just cut him dead in the dining room.

  "It's always my pleasure to come to the aid of a beautiful woman." Marc grinned at his friend.

  "Well, if you two will excuse me," Brandy said, wanting to escape from Rafe's stifling nearness. "I think I'll go on to my cabin now."

  "Allow me, my dear." Rafe stepped forward and offered her his arm.

  "Of course," she said sweetly, remembering his warning to convince everyone that theirs was a love match-no matter how bitter the pill was to swallow. "Good night, Marc, and thanks."

  "Good night, Brandy. I'll see you in the bar later, Rafe?"

  "I'll meet you there."

  Marc moved off as Rafe escorted Brandy toward the steps to the upper deck where her cabin was located.

  "A lady should never be on deck at this time of night unescorted," Rafe said.

  "As you've made abundantly clear so many times, I'm not a lady, so it really doesn't matter, does it?"

  "It matters. You're under my protection now," Rafe ground out, annoyed, yet not able to admit that he was concerned about her. When he'd first come out on deck and had seen her talking with another man, he'd been furious. In the dark, it had taken him a minute to recognize Marc, but even then, his irritation hadn't lessened. He'd seen how the men in the bar reacted to her. Didn't she realize that one of them might try to take advantage of her if they found her alone?

  "I'll keep that in mind." Except for Ben, she'd never had to rely on any man. She wasn't quite sure she was going to like this arrangement if it meant Rafe would be watching her every move and dictating what she could and couldn't do.

  There had been a time several years ago when she'd thought that having a handsome man sweep her off her feet and save her from all her troubles would be heavenly, but the reality of Rafe's agreement destroyed any fantasy she might have had.

  "Until tomorrow, then," Rafe said as they paused before her cabin door.

  "Good night." She slipped quickly inside, wanting to escape his disturbing presence.

  Rafe's mood was pensive as he left Brandy and headed for the bar to meet Marc. He'd expected their relationship to go smoothly. He was getting what he wanted from the marriage, and Brandy would be coming out of the arrangement free of debt and welloff financially. It seemed a good arrangement for both of them, and it certainly was a sound business agreement. He'd even gone along with her demand that her mother be allowed to come live with them, so he didn't understand why she seemed less than satisfied with the way things were going.

  Rafe frowned in the darkness. He'd told Brandy that he wanted everyone convinced that theirs was a love match. Instead, she acted skittish and resentful around him. He realized that if this was going to work, he had to play his part, too. They had one more day before they reached St. Louis, so tomorrow he would begin to make the effort. He would play the lover. He would begin to court her as if he really meant it, and maybe that would erase the hardened suspicion from her gaze when she looked at him. As he entered the bar, Rafe wondered where he could get flowers in the morning. He would have to make some inquiries.

  Brandy was awakened early the following morning by a knock at her door. She drew on her wrapper and went to answer it.

  "Who is it?"

  "It's Molly, Brandy."

  "Is something wrong?" she asked as she quickly unlocked the door to speak to the maid who usually tidied her cabin. She could say no more as she found herself staring at one of the largest bouquets of flowers she'd ever seen. It was beautiful, breathtaking almost. "Molly?"

  "Oh, I'm here, Brandy," the maid chuckled from behind the bouquet. "These are for you." She handed the flowers over to her.

  "From who? Why?"

  "They're from Mr. Marchand," Molly explained, nodding down the deck.

  Brandy frowned, wondering why he hadn't brought them to her himself. She glanced over the top of the flowers to spot Rafe standing at the rail some distance down the deck, his gaze upon her. When she looked his way, he sm
iled slightly at her. Heat flushed through Brandy at the intimacy of his look, and she found herself feeling suddenly very exposed before him. Lord knew she looked a mess. Her hair was down and unbrushed. She had no makeup on. She was sure she looked terrible.

  "Tell Mr. Marchand I said thank you."

  "He wanted to know if you would join him for breakfast."

  Brandy felt a bit giddy, and she knew it was totally ridiculous to feel that way. "Tell him I'd be delighted to join him, but it will take me a while to get ready."

  "I'll tell him, and congratulations, Brandy. He told me about your engagement. I think it's wonderful!" Molly sighed romantically. She leaned closer as she whispered, "And he's so handsome!"

  Brandy smiled benignly at the gushing maid as she retreated into her room with the flowers and closed the door. She stood there a moment, staring at the blossoms, smelling their sweet scent and glorying in their beauty. She didn't know how Rafe had managed to find such a lovely bouquet in the middle of the Mississippi, but she was glad he had. As she gazed down at them, she realized that no man had ever given her flowers before. She smiled.

  Suddenly realizing that he was waiting for her, Brandy laid the bouquet on her bed and began to get ready. She quickly washed, then put the flowers in the pitcher on the small nightstand, not wanting their beauty to fade. Brandy had never realized how long it actually took her to get ready in the morning, and she found her heart pounding as she hurried to brush out her hair and then twist it up in a suitable style for the day. Almost half an hour had passed before she finally emerged from her room. She had thought that Rafe would have gone off to take care of some other business, and she was surprised when she found him relaxing on deck in a chair, quietly enjoying the passing scenery.

  "Thank you for the flowers," she said as she joined him.

  He looked up and a wide smile spread across his face as he saw her. "You're more than welcome."

  "Where did you find them?"

  His eyes were twinkling with good humor, but he was not about to reveal his secret source. "Just let it be said that a Marchand will go to any lengths to please his woman," he said with bravado as he rose to escort her to the dining room.

  "They're lovely."

  "Ah, but they're not as lovely as you."

  She found herself laughing at his honeyed words. "Is there a reason you're behaving this way?"

  "What way?" he asked innocently. "As if I'm smitten?"

  "Well, yes..."

  "We're about to be married. You're my fiancee. How else am I supposed to act?"

  "I have no idea. I've never been engaged before."

  "Neither have I, but it seems to me that if we're madly in love, we should act like it."

  "Have you ever been madly in love?" she challenged.

  "No. I'm new at this, but, who knows, with a little practice..."

  "It seems to me you're doing just fine." She laughed lightheartedly in spite of herself. She had never seen this side of Rafe. He had always been so aloof and almost intimidating. Now, he was being solicitous and funny and sweet, and she found herself almost believing him.

  "Why, thank you, my dear," he said in his most courtly manner. "After you."

  He held the door for her, and they entered the dining room to find Marc there with the children. He saw them come in and motioned for them to join their table.

  "Good morning," Brandy said as they sat down.

  "Good morning, Brandy," Merrie piped up happily. "Papa told me that you're gonna marry Uncle Rafe. I'm glad."

  Brandy and Rafe both looked surprised at her open declaration.

  "But I thought you wanted him for yourself," Brandy said.

  "I love him whole bunches, but Papa explained to me yesterday that Uncle Rafe can't wait for me to grow up." She looked at Rafe pointedly.

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'd love to, honey, but I can't not now that I've met Brandy."

  "She is kinda special, isn't she, Uncle Rafe?" she said to him conspiratorially.

  "She's very special," he answered, turning a warm regard to Brandy.

  Brandy almost found herself believing his lies. It would have been easy to give in to the fantasy and pretend that this handsome man really did care about her, but she couldn't forget the underlying truth to their relationship. It was a bargain between them nothing more. She would play his devoted wife until she delivered the child he wanted and then she would have to go-whether she wanted to or not. Rafe didn't really want her or care about her. It was all an act, a means to an end.

  "I'm glad you think so," she replied, smiling at the both of them. It was a tight, forced smile, but neither noticed. "Your Uncle Rafe is one special man, Merrie. I'm glad you don't mind me marrying him."

  "If he had to go and get married, I'm glad it's to you. When is the wedding, Uncle Rafe?"

  "As soon as we can get things arranged in St. Louis."

  "Can I come?"

  "I wouldn't dream of having it without you."

  Merrie beamed with pleasure. "Good. It'll be fun."

  "What's wrong, Jason?" Rafe asked, seeing the funny look on the boy's face.

  "Girls are strange. Why do they think getting married is so wonderful?"

  "Because it is," Merrie argued. "Uncle Rafe and Brandy are in love, Jason. They're not gonna love anybody else the way they love each other, just like Papa loved Mama."

  Jason grunted disparagingly, a sound of pure male irritation over silly female ideas of love.

  Brandy felt uncomfortable over Merrie's starryeyed description of their relationship. She glanced over at Rafe and found he was studying her with a hooded expression.

  "She's right, darling," Rafe said, reaching out to take Brandy's hand. "I've never known another woman like you."

  I'll bet, she thought, meeting his gaze. She expected to see deceit in his regard as he used double entendres to hide the truth from everyone, but to her surprise, he was looking at her without guile. His gaze was almost beseeching her to play along with him and make their whirlwind courtship believable to Marc and the children.

  "What about you, Brandy?" Merrie was asking. "How come you fell in love with Uncle Rafe so quick?"

  "It wasn't difficult," she told her. "We were playing cards, and he won not only the poker game, but my heart as well."

  "I know. Uncle Rafe is easy to love. Lotsa girls love him. He's awful handsome, and he's rich, too," Merrie pointed out without bragging. "He's not like Jason!" Merrie giggled as her brother sat beside her making faces.

  "Shut up, Merrie," Jason growled. "I'm glad no girls love me! I don't like girls."

  Brandy couldn't help smiling as she thought of Lottie Demers and her desperate attempt to force Rafe to the altar. A lot of women really did want Rafe. She didn't, and yet she was the one he was going to marry.

  Brandy thought about what Marc had told her of Rafe's parents' marriage and knew that their unhappiness had influenced his decision. She could think of no other reason why he had decided that she, of all the females who would have been delighted to be his wife, was the one he would marry.

  "And they don't like you either!" his sister taunted. `Cause you're not nice like Uncle Rafe. Uncle Rafe is special. Right, Brandy?"

  Brandy looked over at the man who would soon be her husband. Outwardly, he was the true Southern gentleman handsome, charming, sophisticated. He gave the appearance of being completely devoted to her. Only Brandy knew the truth. "Yes, Rafe's very special. It's no wonder so many women want to marry him."

  "But you're the one who got him, and you're gonna be very happy, I know it."

  "You think so, do you?" Rafe finally spoke up.

  Merrie nodded with a childlike confidence that Brandy wished she were feeling. The waiter came with their food then, and the conversation turned to the day's activities.

  "What are you two lovebirds going to do?" Marc asked when they'd just about finished the meal.

  "There isn't a lot we can do until we reach St. Louis," Rafe answered. />
  "Well, let me know what your plans are in the city, and I'll help with whatever I can. Jennette's folks will be thrilled to see Merrie and Jason, so I'm sure I won't have any trouble getting away if you need me for anything."

  "Don't worry, I'll be taking you up on your offer."

  "You're staying at the Planter's House?" Marc asked.

  Rafe nodded. "My business meetings are set. It's going to be a full week."

  "What about Brandy? Where is she staying?"

  "I have my room here on the Pride" she offered.

  "Yes, but how long will the boat be in town?" Rafe said. "We'll need to get you a room at the Planter's House, but we also need to take care of the chaperone situation."

  "When we reach St. Louis tomorrow morning, I'll check with Jennette's family and see if they have any suggestions about finding one. They should be able to give me a lead on someone suitable for the job."

  They parted after breakfast. Brandy and Rafe went to stroll on the deck together. They were quiet, neither speaking for a long time.

  "Do you really think this farce is going to work?" Brandy finally asked when they found a spot where they were alone and could speak freely. She still hoped there might be some way she could convince him that this whole thing was crazy and they should give it up. They both knew the truth he didn't love her and he never would.

  Rafe glanced at her, his expression bland. "Of course it will work. We've made an agreement, and we're both going to live up to it."

  "Somehow, I have trouble thinking of marriage in the same terms as a business deal. I know money is involved. But there's so much more to marriage than just a financial arrangement."

  "Are you sure?" Rafe sounded harsh. "With the exception of Marc and Jennette's marriage, most of the marriages I've seen have definitely been influenced by money. Granted, it's usually arranged by the parents, who either want to keep the family fortune in the right hands or want to trap a rich husband for a desperate daughter, but it's always about money."