He didn't dare let his thoughts go past what he would do once he took down her loose blonde curls. She had just suffered a miscarriage—he should be thinking of her health.

  She glanced up at him, confused. “How do you know about the grasshoppers?”

  He swallowed, realizing he'd just made a colossal slip of the tongue by thinking about her instead of concentrating on the conversation. His lawyers had given him a detailed report of how the plantation had fared last year, so he'd known all about the damage to the previous year's harvest.

  “Most plantations in this area suffered the same problems as Rosewood. Plus one of the field hands told me,” he said, hoping she would believe the lie, wishing he could just end this silly masquerade and tell her the truth. But he knew she wasn't ready, and that knowledge would bring certain ruin. Once she accepted their marriage, then he would tell her about his family and his deception.

  She nodded. “Sorry, I guess I'm still a little edgy.” For a moment silence prevailed as they sat, the singsong of crickets coming through the open windows. He could see the moon beginning to rise over the sugarcane fields, the wind blowing the green stalks like waves on the water.

  “I saw a new boy walking around the grounds today. I asked about him and Consuelo told me you hired him? Why? What did you hire him to do?”

  She'd seen Paul. He'd hoped to have more time to prepare her for the knowledge of his son, but he couldn't lie to her about the boy. It seemed ironic: he could lie about the reason he married her, but he couldn't lie about his son. If the truth were told, he didn't like lying to Nicole at all.

  If they were truly to be man and wife she would need to know that Paul belonged in his life. Max doubted that she would ever accept his illegitimate son, but just the same, the boy would remain in his life always.

  “His name is Paul and he's my son,” Max said, watching her eyes widen in surprise.

  “Your son?”

  “Yes.”

  Nicole swallowed hard, her face suddenly becoming white. “Please tell me that you're not still married to his mother.”

  “No,” Max said, for some reason not ready to tell her the circumstances involved with Paul's birth. “We never married.”

  She sighed, a deep, heavy sound. “Well this is certainly a surprise.”

  “I should have told you about him before now, but the time just didn't seem right.”

  “How could you have a son that age?” she asked, bewildered.

  Max took a deep breath. “I got a woman with child when I was a young man.”

  Nicole didn't say anything for a moment as he watched the expression on her face change from contemplative to a frown. Her forehead drew together in a scowl and her blue eyes darkened with anger.

  Most women didn't like other women's children, but he didn't expect her to become this upset at the news of his son.

  “Where is the boy sleeping?” she asked indignantly. “If he's not in the house, where did you put your son?”

  “I didn't want to distress you, so I put him in the barn.”

  “You put your son in the barn, like an animal?” she asked, her voice rising, her blue eyes widening in horror. “How old is this child?”

  “He's twelve,” Max said, confused by her reaction.

  “You put a twelve-year-old child in the barn to sleep,” she said, getting up from her chair and walking toward Max. “What if he gets hurt? What if he's afraid?”

  “He can take care of himself. The kid wanted to sleep there and I didn't want to offend you,” Max said, becoming indignant. He began to wonder if he could win in this situation.

  “Did you think I was such an ogre that I wouldn't take in a twelve-year-old child?” she asked, her blue eyes flashing in anger.

  “No, but you've been sick, I was trying to look after you,” he said, his voice soothing.

  “Don't worry about protecting me, Max. I can take care of myself, quite well, which is more than I can say for a twelve-year-old boy.”

  He frowned at her words. He'd been thinking of her and also trying to keep his son from accidentally revealing the identity of his family. Plus the boy wanted to sleep in the barn; he considered it an adventure, which certainly helped relieve the complications Max had foreseen. But he'd never thought she would become this upset when she found out Paul slept in the barn.

  “I'm going down there right now and move him into the house,” she said, heading for the door.

  “Nicole, sit down,” he commanded. “It's late, he's asleep, and you're upset. You'll frighten the kid.”

  She halted at the door, but she didn't return to her chair as she glared at him. “How?”

  “Just let him sleep. If we move him now, he's going to be wide awake and have trouble going back to sleep. The kid works hard; let him rest tonight. Tomorrow you can relocate him into the house.”

  Nicole sank back down into her chair. She stared across the table at him. “Are there any other secrets you haven't mentioned?”

  “Have you told me all your secrets?” he countered, trying to dodge the question.

  She raised her brows. “All my secrets have been publicly disclosed, some of them I didn't even know.” She watched him closely. “So how about you? Anything else I should be worried about?”

  Max felt incredibly frustrated and part of that dissatisfaction came from his own guilt. He had enough secrets to make Nicole's hair turn red, yet he wasn't about to reveal them to her. Not just yet. So he did the only thing he could: he lied.

  “Not at the moment. I'll be sure to let you know, though, when I do have something to hide,” he said, hating the fact that he was forced to lie, fearful of what she would say next.

  They sat in silence for several moments, each sipping their coffee, listening to the sounds of the night through the open windows. The spirit bottles clanged together, their clinking melody coming through the windows.

  “I know you must be anxious to take Paul and move on to the next town you'll be visiting. When do you plan to leave?” she asked, breaking the stillness.

  Somehow he knew this question would come up tonight and he dreaded answering, but the time for her to realize he had no intentions of departing faced them.

  “Our agreement said that I would receive half the cane crop,” he said, knowing that she needed the money and feeling bad for letting her believe he would take half of it “I'm staying until we harvest the crop.”

  “I don't think so,” she said, her voice rising. “Our agreement also stated that our marriage would only be temporary. There's no reason for us to continue as man and wife. Your part is complete, you may go at any time.”

  He let her sit and wait several moments before he responded, knowing the pause would vex her and also give her a moment to cool down. “I expected to be here until the crop could be delivered to the mill and I received payment. I'm not taking less than half of the money made and I intend to remain here until the job is complete.”

  “You can't!” she said. “That won't be until sometime in November.”

  “Why can't I?” he asked, standing and coming around to her side of the table. “The crop this year is doing better than ever before. Why do you want to risk losing it? You don't have an overseer or anyone who can help you. I'm here, let me do this for you.”

  “I can run this plantation, I've done so for the last four years,” she stated. She took a calming breath. “Look, I know you've worked very hard and I appreciate it. I'll pay you for your time here, but you are free to leave; there's really no reason for you to stay. Sometime in the next few days, you and Paul can pack up and go.”

  Max felt himself getting desperate, so he pulled all his punches, though he wished she would relent and let him stay.

  “No. I'm not departing just yet. When you ran the plantation, how many of those years were profitable?”

  “That's not fair. You know that we experienced trouble with insects last year. It takes several years to make a profit, and this year we should do well.”

  He nodded. “That's right. I intend to make sure that we do well. But until the crop is sold, I'm going to continue living here.”

  He watched the myriad expressions cross her face, the flash of anger in her blue eyes, and her jaw tense. Finally, a look of resignation showed on her beautiful face.

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “All right. I made this agreement and I'll stand by it, but the moment we sell the crop, I want you and your son gone.”

  Silence filled the room with the exception of the tick tock of a grandfather clock in the distance and the sound of crickets chirping in time.

  “I promise you, things will work out for the best,” he said, somehow not wanting the evening to end on such a bad note, though he refused to agree to her expressed date of departure.

  ***

  Nicole rose early the next morning, determined that if Max were going to stay, Paul would not continue to sleep in the barn. She would not allow the boy to be discriminated against in any way while he stayed at her home. From the time she was old enough to understand, she'd always known she was different from most children. It wasn't until she reached puberty that she'd learned the term “love child” and how that made her unusual.

  With a determined step she went down the back stairs, through the kitchen garden, and across the yard to the barn. When she reached the wooden building that housed the horses, she opened the door and went inside. She immediately saw Moses, the man in charge of the horses. He glanced up, his eyes widening at the sight of her.

  “Mrs. Viel, can I help you?”

  “Yes, I'm looking for the boy, Paul,” she said.

  The boy stuck his head out of a stall, his dark brown eyes wide, freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. “You're looking for me, ma'am?”

  She smiled, trying to put him at ease. It wasn't the boy's fault his father had failed to treat him right. “Yes, I'm Nicole Viel, your father's wife. I want you to gather your things. I'm moving you to a bedroom in the house.”

  He shook his head. “Nice to meet you, ma'am, but there's no need. I'm very happy here in the barn. This is where Mr. Viel put me.”

  Nicole bristled at the formal name he'd used for his father. Obviously, the boy seldom saw the man.

  “It's all right, Paul, I know that Max is your father.” She took a deep breath. “I won't have my husband's son living out in the barn. Consuelo has prepared one of the guest rooms in the house. A nice soft bed and a place to put your things is ready for you.”

  She walked over to the boy and gazed at the young man who stood taller than she. A skinny lad with dark hair that curled loosely on top of his head, his jaw strong and angular like his father's. The boy needed a haircut and maybe even a new pair of pants.

  “Your father should have brought you into the house the very first day you arrived. I'm moving you into the house in a room beside your father. You may continue to work in the barn if you like,” she said, determined that Paul would feel accepted in her home while he was here.

  If she hadn't feared upsetting the boy, she would have marched out here last night and had him moved into the house immediately. But she'd listened to Max and then worried whether the boy was comfortable sleeping in the straw.

  Paul put down the pitchfork he was using, walked over to an empty stall, and pulled out a small knapsack.

  “I'm ready,” he said, his face somewhat dejected.

  “That's all you have?” she asked, looking at him in amazement. “Where are your clothes?”

  “This is it,” he said, gazing at her with apprehension while she seethed with fury. Most beggars had more possessions than this child.

  The boy's father drifted from town to town, never earning a great deal of money, yet he'd paid all her bills. Why couldn't he buy his son some decent clothes? Some of her beaded bags were bigger than the knapsack Paul carried.

  “Why hasn't your father bought you more clothes?” she asked, stunned by the sight of his small bag.

  “Papa's given me money for clothes,” he said, his gaze not meeting hers. “Mother needed the money for the rent.”

  Nicole closed her mouth, trying not to look shocked at his announcement.

  “We were a little short that month, but I understand,” he said, and Nicole could see a wealth of knowledge in his twelve-year-old eyes.

  She took a calming breath, thinking of all the times she'd wished her father had been in her life, had done things for her, wondering how much pain this child had endured by being illegitimate. How much neglect had he suffered at the hands of his mother and father?

  “Come on and we'll get you settled in the house, and then you can come back to the barn if you like,” she said, heading toward the door.

  As they walked toward the house, Paul meekly followed her, not saying anything. “I apologize that we weren't formally introduced by your father.”

  “It's all right,” the boy said. “Papa told me to stay away from the big house.”

  Her eyes cut to the boy, feeling the anger she'd kept at bay once again flaming to the surface. Was Max so ashamed of his son he didn't want him seen by the servants that were better dressed? “Why would he tell you such a thing?”

  The boy shrugged. “I don't know.”

  “Well, I certainly don't understand how a parent can disregard their son and I intend to tell him so,” she said, her anger still smoldering.

  “Don't be mad at him. He always comes around, which is more than some of the other children's fathers do.”

  She jerked around to look at him. “There are other children?”

  “I'm not the only child my mother has,” Paul said.

  “Oh,” Nicole said, wondering about this statement but not asking the boy, as he seemed embarrassed. They couldn't be Max's, could they? He hadn't mentioned more than one.

  They reached the house and climbed the stairs together. “What school do you attend?” Nicole asked, trying to find a subject they could discuss without her becoming angrier with Max.

  “When I get to go, I attend the local parish school.”

  “What would keep you from school?” she asked, not certain that she wanted to know, but her concern for the boy increasing by the minute.

  “Sometimes I have to see to the younger kids. If the little ones get sick, I have to stay home and take care of them,” he said quietly.

  Nicole noticed he suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “What about your mother?”

  “She sleeps during the day and doesn't like to be disturbed,” he said, not looking at Nicole. “It's all right. I don't mind watching them. Mother should have been a famous singer. She means well and takes care of us the best she can.”

  Nicole felt such anger burning within her, she didn't dare ask any more questions. How could a mother let her young son take on her responsibilities? And how could a father leave town while his son took care of his siblings to the neglect of attending school?

  They entered the house and she watched Paul's eyes widen as he gazed about the main parlor. “This is really nice. You must be rich.”

  She couldn't contain her laugh. “No, I'm hardly wealthy, but thank you.”

  They walked through the men's parlor to a bedroom next to Max's.

  Nicole frowned, a sudden thought occurring to her. How did he see the boy if he drifted from town to town? “Does your father take you with him when he travels from town to town?”

  Paul looked at her, his face full of confusion. “Papa doesn't—”

  “So I see you found my son,” Max said, stepping into Paul's room, interrupting what the boy had been about to say.

  Nicole raised her brows at the man she could happily strangle right now.

  “Yes, this is going to be Paul's room, where he should have been all along,” she said, still upset with Max for the way he'd treated his son.

  Max shrugged. “Son, did you want to sleep in the house?”

  “No, Papa, actually I liked it just fine in the barn,” the boy said.

  “The barn is for animals and not for young men. This way he can dine with us,” Nicole said. “But I'm shocked this is all the boy brought with him. Where are his clothes?”

  “At his mother's, if he still has any that fit him,” Max said.

  She shook her head, thinking even her servants had better clothes than this child.

  “Then it might behoove you to take him to town and get him outfitted with the things that a young boy requires. That is, if you have the money to pay for them.”

  “Papa has plenty—”

  “I'll take him this morning, if you feel he is lacking,” Max said, clearly annoyed.

  “It doesn't matter what I think. It's your duty as his father. From my vantage point, you don't appear to be a very good parent,” Nicole said. “You've neglected him.”

  Max's green eyes darkened. His mouth tightened, and she knew she'd finally angered him.

  “You know nothing about how I care for my son,” he said.

  “Papa gives me lots of things,” Paul defended.

  Nicole didn't say anything else. The boy shouldn't hear them arguing over him this way and she knew that anything she said at this point would only anger Max further.

  “Then take him to town and outfit him properly,” she said, gazing at Max.

  “Thank you for your suggestion. Would you care to join us?” Max asked, clearly piqued.

  The thought of riding into town with the two of them, accompanying them while Max bought his son some decent clothes, was tempting. Her attending would at least ensure that what he bought would be decent for the boy, but the miscarriage had only been three weeks ago and the doctor had told her to refrain from riding on horses or in buggies for a while.

  “No, I trust that you can outfit him,” she said, not ready to ride in a bouncing buggy over ruts and rocks in the road.

  “I don't know, Mrs. Viel. According to you, I haven't taken good care of him yet,” Max said, his voice mocking her. She could tell he was still annoyed.

  “Well, here is your chance to show me what kind of parent you really are,” she said, baiting him.

  His emerald eyes widened and then he reached out and slid his fingers along her jawbone in a gentle caress, his touch awakening her body, every nerve tingling with awareness. “I'm a good father and someday you'll have no doubts.”

 

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