thought the best idea was for me to indenture myself for a few years, learn a trade so I could fend for myself.” Alex watched her closely, his interest encouraging her to go on.
“The Ramseys indentured me as a favor, since my family had known them for years. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before they also ran into hard times. They sold me to a man in New Orleans who seemed very upstanding on the surface ….” Nicki shuddered as the memory swept over her. Whenever she thought of Laurent, a cold, dark fear settled inside her.
“Every time he got drunk, he beat me. I carried his bruises all over my body. Once he broke my arm ….” Nicki stared off in the distance, fighting the ugly memories. “I was glad when he sold me. Ididn’t care who bought me, I only wanted to get away.”
“Mista Alex?” It was Lemuel, Alex’s valet. “Mista Thomas here to see you.”
Alex glanced down at Nicki, hating the painful memories that darkened her pretty face. It sickened him to think of the cruelty she had suffered. He was glad he didn’t know the bastard’s name who had treated her so badly.
Unconsciously, Alex clenched his fist. He glanced from Nicki to Lemuel, waiting for him patiently, several yards away.
He ran a finger along her cheek, wishing there was something he could say, but unable to find the words. “I’d better go.”
He had almost forgotten his meeting with Thomas Demming. They had the new shipping contracts to go over, so Thomas had volunteered to come out to the house. In truth, Alex knew Thomas enjoyed his brief forays into the country, his overnight stays at Belle Chêne. And Alex enjoyed the conversation. It was rare he got a chance to really relax.
Nicki put out her hand. “Thank you for the lesson. It was very kind of you. I’d almost forgotten how it felt to be treated as a human being.”
Alex’s expression turned grim. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn’t. “Don’t stay out here too long,” he finally said, then turned and walked away.
Nicki headed back through the barn on her way to the house. Whale-oil lanterns lit the interior, and the place smelled of horses and new mown hay. The stable boy stopped her before she reached the door.
“Say, lass, you made a good show o’ it, for yourfirst time out.” Thumbs hooked in the top of his blue canvas pants, he grinned down at her. He was a pleasant-looking boy, tall and fair, with light-brown hair and hazel eyes, though she couldn’t quite see them in the lamplight.
“Thank you.” There were dozens of Irish working on the plantation. Fleeing a famine in their own country, they’d immigrated into the area by the scores.
“Name’s Patrick O’Flannery. What’s yours?”
“Nicki Stockton.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Nicki.” He smiled again; a pleasant, honest smile, it seemed. “Sidesaddle’s all right, I guess, but if you really want t’ ride, you’ve got t’ sit astride like a man. I could teach you, if you want.”
“M’sieur du Villier is teaching me.” She still couldn’t believe it. But he’d said he would, and Alex did what he said.
“Yeah, well, you can ride with him as you like, but if you ride with me, I’ll show you how to have some fun.”
Nicki’s eyes lit up. Patrick O’Flannery had the look of the blarney, but one never knew for sure. “How do you mean?”
“I mean, you keep practicin’, then we’ll wait until dark one night, and take a couple o’ the duke’s good ‘uns out for a run.”
“Steal them?”
“Nothin’ like that. Just give ’em a little exercise.”
It sounded like heaven. “I’d love to ride Napoleon,” she said, just itching to feel the big blooded stallion beneath her.
“Not ‘im. The duke would be mad as all get-out ifhe found out we took Napoleon. But any of the others …”
Some of the finest horses in the world graced Belle Chêne’s stables. To ride them would be a joy she hadn’t known in years. “What’ll
“The Ramseys indentured me as a favor, since my family had known them for years. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before they also ran into hard times. They sold me to a man in New Orleans who seemed very upstanding on the surface ….” Nicki shuddered as the memory swept over her. Whenever she thought of Laurent, a cold, dark fear settled inside her.
“Every time he got drunk, he beat me. I carried his bruises all over my body. Once he broke my arm ….” Nicki stared off in the distance, fighting the ugly memories. “I was glad when he sold me. Ididn’t care who bought me, I only wanted to get away.”
“Mista Alex?” It was Lemuel, Alex’s valet. “Mista Thomas here to see you.”
Alex glanced down at Nicki, hating the painful memories that darkened her pretty face. It sickened him to think of the cruelty she had suffered. He was glad he didn’t know the bastard’s name who had treated her so badly.
Unconsciously, Alex clenched his fist. He glanced from Nicki to Lemuel, waiting for him patiently, several yards away.
He ran a finger along her cheek, wishing there was something he could say, but unable to find the words. “I’d better go.”
He had almost forgotten his meeting with Thomas Demming. They had the new shipping contracts to go over, so Thomas had volunteered to come out to the house. In truth, Alex knew Thomas enjoyed his brief forays into the country, his overnight stays at Belle Chêne. And Alex enjoyed the conversation. It was rare he got a chance to really relax.
Nicki put out her hand. “Thank you for the lesson. It was very kind of you. I’d almost forgotten how it felt to be treated as a human being.”
Alex’s expression turned grim. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn’t. “Don’t stay out here too long,” he finally said, then turned and walked away.
Nicki headed back through the barn on her way to the house. Whale-oil lanterns lit the interior, and the place smelled of horses and new mown hay. The stable boy stopped her before she reached the door.
“Say, lass, you made a good show o’ it, for yourfirst time out.” Thumbs hooked in the top of his blue canvas pants, he grinned down at her. He was a pleasant-looking boy, tall and fair, with light-brown hair and hazel eyes, though she couldn’t quite see them in the lamplight.
“Thank you.” There were dozens of Irish working on the plantation. Fleeing a famine in their own country, they’d immigrated into the area by the scores.
“Name’s Patrick O’Flannery. What’s yours?”
“Nicki Stockton.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Nicki.” He smiled again; a pleasant, honest smile, it seemed. “Sidesaddle’s all right, I guess, but if you really want t’ ride, you’ve got t’ sit astride like a man. I could teach you, if you want.”
“M’sieur du Villier is teaching me.” She still couldn’t believe it. But he’d said he would, and Alex did what he said.
“Yeah, well, you can ride with him as you like, but if you ride with me, I’ll show you how to have some fun.”
Nicki’s eyes lit up. Patrick O’Flannery had the look of the blarney, but one never knew for sure. “How do you mean?”
“I mean, you keep practicin’, then we’ll wait until dark one night, and take a couple o’ the duke’s good ‘uns out for a run.”
“Steal them?”
“Nothin’ like that. Just give ’em a little exercise.”
It sounded like heaven. “I’d love to ride Napoleon,” she said, just itching to feel the big blooded stallion beneath her.
“Not ‘im. The duke would be mad as all get-out ifhe found out we took Napoleon. But any of the others …”
Some of the finest horses in the world graced Belle Chêne’s stables. To ride them would be a joy she hadn’t known in years. “What’ll
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