Lilah Fitzpatrick’s childhood sweetheart broke her heart when he married another woman. She never thought she’d find the kind of love she lost. Then Steele Denegal—a fearless Yankee soldier—swept her into his world of passion and captured her heart.
Suddenly Steele disappears, leaving Lilah alone and vulnerable to a treacherous man who's determined to destroy her, along with the memory of Steele's love. Will the promise in their passion find a future, or will Steele return before it's too late?
Lilah Fitzpatrick’s childhood sweetheart broke her heart when he married another woman. She never thought she’d find the kind of love she lost. Then Steele Denegal—a fearless Yankee soldier—swept her into his world of passion and captured her heart.
Suddenly Steele disappears, leaving Lilah alone and vulnerable to a treacherous man who's determined to destroy her, along with the memory of Steele's love. Will the promise in their passion find a future, or will Steele return before it's too late?
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Overview
Lilah Fitzpatrick’s childhood sweetheart broke her heart when he married another woman. She never thought she’d find the kind of love she lost. Then Steele Denegal—a fearless Yankee soldier—swept her into his world of passion and captured her heart.
Suddenly Steele disappears, leaving Lilah alone and vulnerable to a treacherous man who's determined to destroy her, along with the memory of Steele's love. Will the promise in their passion find a future, or will Steele return before it's too late?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781626813342 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Diversion Books |
| Publication date: | 02/06/2019 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 328 |
| File size: | 4 MB |
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
RAINBOW HAMMOCK October 24, 1859
Lilah Fitzpatrick, her silky hair shining in the warm Georgia sun, sat on the veranda of Fortune's Fancy, gazing out over the manicured lawn. She watched two peacocks, their iridescent fans spread, strut magnificently, as if they owned Rainbow Hammock.
She sighed. How wonderful it would be to own the world!
To Lilah, Rainbow Hammock was the world — the only one she'd known in her eighteen years. Her sole reality lay in its gnarled, moss-shrouded oaks; misty marshes; wide, white beaches; and the shimmering fields of long-staple cotton.
She could still picture Brandon Patrick riding up the shell road on his white horse or striding in from the fields to the house when the dinner bell sounded. The memory of his kisses lingered in her dreams.
Almost a year, she thought, and not a word from him. But soon he'll be home. I feel it!
"Lilah, for Chrissakes, quit daydreaming and come help me." Jeremy Patrick interrupted her reverie "I'm all thumbs when it comes to tying up these corn dolls. And you, Amalee," he tossed his twin sister an accusing glance, "are worse than useless!"
"The corn husks are rough," Amalee whined from a comfortable rocker at the shady end of the veranda. "I'll positively ruin my hands. Besides, it's too hot to work. I don't see why the servants can't make the decorations for the ball."
"We've always done it. Ever since we learned to tie a string," Lilah replied matter-of-factly.
"But it was different before," Amalee insisted. "We weren't old enough to go to the ball then. I certainly don't want Henri Dupree and the other boys from Savannah who're coming to ask me to dance and find my hands rubbed rough as a nigger's from all this work. Honestly, that would simply mortify me!"
Jeremy bombarded his complaining sister with a hail of brightly colored kernels, sending her into a fit of protesting squeals.
"You bastard!" Amalee shrieked at her brother.
A disapproving, black face appeared at the front door and peered at the three with saucerlike eyes. "I done heared somethin' that I didn't hear a-tall. Leastwise, Miz Elizabeth ain't gonna know I heared it 'less it happens again. Your ma don't cotton to young ladies usin' that kind of talk!"
Having warned the trio, old Zalou, who had served as Elizabeth Ryan Patrick's mammy before taking charge of Amalee, disappeared down the hallway.
Lilah bent to pick up the scattered corn. The velvet-blue shadows cast by the morning glory vine on the trellis flitted like playful butterflies on her long hair.
She glanced at Amalee and then at Jeremy. The twins were so alike with their auburn curls, Irish-green eyes, and quick tempers. Only moments before, Amalee had complained that Jeremy and Lilah were having all the fun and weren't letting her do anything.
"You just rest yourself, Amalee," Lilah said. "Jeremy and I can finish up the last of these corn dolls in no time." A flicker of a frown crossed her face and her indigo eyes suddenly went deep violet. "It won't matter if my hands get a few more callouses. I won't be going to the All Hallows' Eve ball."
Her thoughts were again on Brandon, the twins' older brother, and her promise to be with him on that night.
"Not going to the ball?" Jeremy cried. "What the hell do you mean, Lilah?"
"You watch your language, Jeremy Patrick, or Zalou will have Mama out here!" Amalee cautioned.
"I don't give a damn!" he shot at his sister, then caught Lilah by the shoulders. "Of course you'll be at the ball. It wouldn't be right without you there. We're all eighteen now, and you know how we've been looking forward to our first fancy party." He threw back his head and laughed aloud. "I must admit though, I'll miss spying on the guests from the gallery. Remember last year when old Uncle Oscar slipped and almost drowned in the apple bobbing tub?"
All three joined in the laughter as Jeremy did a drunken dance and leaned over the veranda railing in imitation of his uncle's desperate flailing in the apple tub.
Lilah grew silent, then said, "Yes, I'll miss all that this year."
"You won't miss a blasted thing, I'm telling you!" Jeremy grew adamant. "Why are you talking crazy, girl?"
Before Lilah could answer, Jeremy exaggerated a sweeping bow and grabbed her. He whirled her about the veranda until they both grew dizzy.
Amalee, noting the gleam in her brother's eyes, tossed her head in a show of jealous-disgust.
When the two of them lost their balance and landed in a tangled heap, Lilah said, "Jeremy, I haven't been invited to the ball."
He stood up and stamped one sleek-booted foot. "If you don't beat all! Of course you're invited. You're one of us, Lilah. What the hell do you want? One of those fancy, engraved invitations Mama had made up in Savannah?"
Amalee eyed Lilah's prettily flushed cheeks with more than a hint of animosity, and said, "Jeremy, don't pester her so. Maybe Lilah doesn't want to come to the ball."
"Of course, I want to come, Amalee. It's only that —"
"Then it's all settled," Jeremy cut in. He flopped down in a rocking chair next to Amalee's and patted the one beside it, signaling Lilah to join them.
Jeremy poured two tall glasses of cider, then pulled a silver flask from inside his shirt, and spiked his with a healthy shot of whiskey.
"Ah-h-h," he sighed. "Nothing makes a man feel better than a good drink and a pretty woman beside him."
Elizabeth Patrick had viewed Jeremy and Lilah's terpsichorean display from just inside the wide entrance hall. Now her anger boiled as she watched her younger son reach over and pat Lilah's hand affectionately. She stood by ... listening ... waiting.
"I don't even have a decent gown to wear, Jeremy," Lilah protested truthfully.
"Ah, hell, Amalee's got a hundred! She'll let you wear one of hers."
Amalee drew up, affronted by her brother's casual offer of her belongings.
"Most of the guests come in costume, Lilah honey. You could always wear that old patched calico you have on now and come as white trash," Amalee drawled sarcastically. "Or, better yet, blacken your face and tie your hair up in a tignon and come as one of Papa's nigger wenches!"
"Shut up, Amalee!" Jeremy growled, the whiskey turning him mean as it always did.
While Lilah sat aching inside from Amalee's cruel words, and trying to control her own temper, Elizabeth Patrick swished onto the veranda, her gray silk rustling and her brown eyes stone-hard.
"Lilah, if you've finished here, I have some mending inside that you can take home for your mother to do for me."
Lilah stood up. "Yes, ma'am."
"Come with me, then," Elizabeth commanded.
Elizabeth Patrick moved so swiftly through the hallway that by the time Lilah caught up with her in the parlor, the mistress of Fortune's Fancy already stood angrily fingering the gold fringe of the burgundy velvet drapes that framed the four large windows.
For several moments Lilah stood uncomfortably, waiting for Elizabeth Patrick to turn and speak. Something warned her that the last thing on the woman's mind at the moment was mending. Lilah could see Mrs. Patrick's shoulders heaving, betraying some strong, emotional struggle.
"Come here, Lilah," Elizabeth Patrick said without turning. "There's something I want you to see."
Lilah moved to the window obediently.
"Look across the lawn, the road, the first field. What do you see?"
Lilah, unable to guess what answer was expected of her, replied, "Why, Rainbow Hammock — for as far as the eye can reach."
"Just as I thought," Elizabeth said in a cold tone. "You see the forest but not the trees. You see what you want to see rather than the true facts. It's time I opened your eyes to a few things!"
Lilah stared at Elizabeth Patrick, confused.
Pointing, Mrs. Patrick continued, "The overseer's cabin ... that's what I want you to see! Take a good look at it, Lilah Fitzpatrick! That's your home — that poor tabby shack and the worked-out piece of ground it sits on. You don't belong at Fortune's Fancy. You don't even belong on Rainbow Hammock, at least not any part except the few acres your family owns."
"But I don't understand, ma'am."
"Exactly! You don't understand; you never have. It was my husband's foolish idea to treat you as a cousin to our own children, to school you with the twins since you're their age. But I never approved ... never! And now it's come to this! I heard your conversation with Jeremy and Amalee just now. Can you imagine what our friends would say if you showed up at the All Hallows' Eve ball? The overseer's niece? It's unthinkable!"
Lilah felt as if she were shrinking inside her clothes. Elizabeth Patrick's words made her feel like a bad person, but she wasn't sure why. She ached to turn and run ... to hide somewhere so that she'd never have to face another living soul. But there was no escape.
"I don't want you around my children anymore. I say, children, but you aren't children now. Both Amalee and Jeremy will marry soon and bring their families here to Fortune's Fancy to live. How do you think it would look for the overseer's niece to have the run of the place? Why, we'd be the laughingstock of coastal society! You were wise to tell Jeremy that you haven't been invited to the ball. Believe me, you are not welcome!"
Suddenly, all the hurt Elizabeth Patrick had inflicted welled up in Lilah and she wanted to strike back, no matter how slight a blow.
"I'll stay away from your house, from Amalee with pleasure, and from Jeremy, Mrs. Patrick. But you're wrong about the ball. I have been invited. Brandon asked me to come the morning you sent him away. If Brandon keeps his promise to me, he'll be here to escort me to the ball. Short of dishonoring your son in front of your friends, I don't see how you can keep me from coming! Now, if you will excuse me, ma'am."
Lilah whirled about to leave, but ran headlong into Ames Patrick.
The big, sandy-haired man smiled down at her, and said, "Blast it all, missy, if you don't get prettier every day!"
Lilah burst into tears, pulled away from Ames Patrick, and ran from the room.
"And just what was all that about?" he asked his wife. "Did you take a whip to the girl? God knows, you've threatened to often enough!" "The ball," Elizabeth answered glacially. "Just what do you plan to do about this problem?"
Ames walked over to the window and put an arm about her shoulders, feeling somewhat in awe that her stiff, unyielding body could still arouse him.
"Darling, you always work yourself and everyone on the place into an absolute fidget over this damned party, and it's never failed to be the success of the social season. Take it easy. We still have plenty of time to get everything done."
She pushed away from him when his big hand cupped one silk-covered breast. Her husband's advances repelled her. She'd abided his touch long enough to be impregnated six times and give him three healthy children, but no more. Standing safely out of his reach, she touched the smooth, blue-black chignon at the nape of her neck and gave him a frigid look.
"You have plenty of time to settle this problem, Ames Patrick! I've tried and failed apparently."
"What problem, Elizabeth?" The master of Fortune's Fancy studied his wife's face more closely. What he saw alarmed him — the predatory fire in her dark eyes, the resolute set of her patrician jaw.
"Lilah Fitzpatrick!" She spat the name out as if it tasted vile in her mouth. "I found out that she's planning to come to my ball! I won't have it, Ames, and I told her so! But she defied me. This is all your fault — the way you've pampered her all these years. Why, the girl actually considers herself part of this family!"
"Elizabeth, calm yourself! You know as well as I do that she's been good for all of us. She's taken the place of the little girl we lost. The twins certainly enjoy her company. And we both know how Brandon feels about her."
Ames realized his mistake before the words were out of his mouth.
Elizabeth attacked with angry tears and harsh words. "I know all too well how Brandon feels about her! You don't have to remind me. It broke my heart to have to send him off to Savannah last year. But it was the only way. Thank God, things have worked out for him. But now Jeremy is looking at her through a man's eyes. Am I going to have to go through the same thing with him? No! I can't and I won't!"
"For heaven's sake, Elizabeth, take it easy! It's only a party. What harm could her being there possibly do?"
"What harm?" she shrilled. "You're as bad as Brandon and Jeremy where Lilah Fitzpatrick is concerned. A pretty face and a satin tongue do not a lady make! And what about poor Amalee? Your own daughter feels that you've always placed her second to the overseer's niece! How will she feel at her first ball, having to take a backseat to Lilah Fitzpatrick?"
"Amalee's pretty enough," Ames replied. "She'll have her share of young men dancing attendance. And as for my favoring Lilah, that simply isn't true, Elizabeth, and you know it!"
"Oh, do I?" she demanded. "I repeat, I will not have her at the ball or at Fortune's Fancy any longer!"
"What do you expect me to do about this situation, Elizabeth?" Ames growled.
"Simply make sure she understands that she's not welcome!"
Ames Patrick stared at his wife in disbelief. "And just how am I supposed to explain this sudden change to our children? They've accepted Lilah as one of them all their lives."
"Your fault again, dear Ames, and your problem! How you explain is no concern of mine. Simply make sure they all understand!"
Elizabeth Patrick whirled away from him and out of the room. Ames stared after her, the noon sun picking out the gray strands in his reddish hair. His broad shoulders sagged visibly.
"Blast the woman!" he said aloud, slamming his fist down so hard on the marble top of a Belter table that the late roses jumped in their silver vase. "She has ice water for blood and granite for a heart!"
He gazed up at a portrait of his grandfather Simon's sister-in-law, Maureen. With her pale hair, hypnotic blue eyes, and sweet expression, she could have been her great-great-granddaughter, Lilah Fitzpatrick.
Ames laughed bitterly. Perhaps Lilah was really Maureen, come back to haunt him for what old Simon did to her family.
Gazing out the window, he saw Lilah running down the shell road toward the avenue of oaks.
He paced back and forth, following the intricate, patterned border of the rug. He stopped in front of the piano he'd ordered from R. and W. Nunns of New York — the instrument Lilah played as if she'd been born with her delicate fingertips poised on the ivory, but which still confounded his daughter, Amalee.
He traced the gadroon beading of the upright case with one finger. He touched the rayed silk that finished the front of the fine instrument, its rich rose folds held in place by a passion flower medallion.
His hand stopped on the cool metal blossom and he smiled. Yes, his idea might work! He could have it both ways! Elizabeth would never suspect a thing!
Ames Patrick moved swiftly for a large man. In seconds he was out of the house, heading for the oaks to find Lilah.
Lilah sat huddled against the rough bark of the oldest live oak on Rainbow Hammock. Legend had it that the sprawling giant, with its low, thick trunk and meandering branches, grew out of the grave of an Indian maiden who died of a broken heart when her lover drowned.
The oak had been Lilah's secret place all her life. She often climbed its leafy branches and perched on a broad limb to tell the long-dead Indian girl of her troubles, her happiness, her sorrows, and her dreams. Today she came to hide. Only embraced by the familiar arms of this ancient friend could she deal with the pain Elizabeth Patrick had inflicted.
"I'm not different!" she said aloud. "I'm as good as Amalee Patrick — better at most things. I refuse to be treated like common white trash! People may sneer at us, but the Fitzpatricks come of proud stock. Why do they treat us this way?"
A rush of angry, hurt tears stopped her words. She hugged a wide branch and sobbed until her head throbbed and her chest ached.
"Lilah," Ames Patrick called. "Lilah, where are you?"
She didn't answer, but her crying had given her away.
"What are you doing up there, child?" he asked when he caught a glimpse of her through the foliage. "Come down here and talk to me. I'm sorry my wife was so brusque with you, but I smoothed things over." He paused. "Lilah, did you hear what I said?"
Her sobs subsided. Ames Patrick had treated her well all her life — as well as her own father might have, if he'd lived. Some of the ache eased. She slipped down through the branches to where he could see her plainly.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Rainbow Hammock"
by .
Copyright © 1983 Becky Lee Weyrich.
Excerpted by permission of Diversion Publishing Corp..
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