Page 83 of The Irish Gypsy
"What is a 'morning gift'?" she asked.
"It's an ancient tradition. When a husband ispleased with his bride, he gives her a 'morning gift.' You pleaseme very much."
She smiled at him gently.
"At first I thought of giving you jewelry,but that's such an ordinary gift. I decided to give you somethingthat would be more meaningful to you." He held out theenvelope.
"What is it, Charles?"
"It's the deed to one of my Irish estates.It's yours free and clear, to do with as you wish. You mustn't saveit for Charles Patrick, because he will get all of my lands. Thisis yours to keep or to sell, or even to give away, if it so pleasesyou."
"Why, I....I don't know what so say. Are yousure you want to do this?"
"Absolutely sure." He laughed to lighten themood. "Now you can leave me if you want to. You're not dependent onanyone anymore, not even me."
She was crying and in a moment he was in bedwith her, holding her and laughing. He tipped back her head andkissed her.
"Charles, the servants will see us," sheprotested.
"Mmmm, I hope so," he murmured against herneck.
Much later, when she was alone, she vowedthat she would be a good wife to Charles. She knew it would take anextraordinary effort on her part to fulfill the role of a duchess.She would start by putting away her Tarot cards. She would help herhusband make decisions about their son and their life and stopconsulting the cards every time she had a decision to make. Itwould never do for her to go about telling fortunes now that shewas married to a duke. She wanted him to be proud of her and sworeshe'd make every effort to be a lady.
Chapter 23
Patrick was nearing Bagatelle Plantation atlast. He regretted his decision to ride. The heat was unbearable;he'd never been so affected by it. A wave of dizziness swept overhim. He steadied himself with his knees and wiped the sweat fromhis eyes. As he came into view of the plantation, he sagged withrelief. He'd been in the saddle for two days and every muscle inhis body ached. He dismounted awkwardly and entered the house.
He knew at once that something was wrong. Hecould not identify what it was he saw in the faces of the houseservants--fear? Jacquine greeted him with a brilliant smile, buther eyes were filled with compassion for him. He walked toward herwith a sense of impending doom.
"Patrick, sit down. I have some shocking newsfor you."
He sat down and waited.
"A young woman came looking for you. I knowit was someone very special to you called Kitty. When she arrivedshe was very sick--boat fever, I believe--anyway, I did everythingI could to save her, but it was hopeless from the beginning."
He laughed. "Kitty? Here? That's impossible!Where is she?" he demanded.
"I told you, Patrick, it was hopeless. Shedied from the fever."
"It wasn't Kitty. There's been some mistake,some mix-up!" he denied quickly. "It's not true, you're lying!" heshouted.
Without a word she turned quietly and wentupstairs. When she returned, she held out the traveling bagcontaining Kitty's belongings. He snatched it from her and rummagedinside. His mind denied these things belonged to Kitty, but whenhis fingers closed on the pale lavender silk, he knew. He breathedin her fragrance deeply, and the delicate details of theirlovemaking rushed back to him as his fingers caressed the silk.
"My God, what have you done with her? Whendid she arrive? Why wasn't a doctor called to help her?" heraved.
"Patrick, you look ill. All these questionsare only upsetting you. She is dead, you must accept it. Take thisbrandy."
He ignored her outstretched hand. "Show mewhere," he said more quietly.
He followed her to the private cemetery plotand saw a small new mound of earth with a plain wooden cross.
"Leave me," he said.
When he hadn't returned to the house aftertwo hours had elapsed, she went in search of him with two malehouse servants. She would use force on him if necessary. They foundhim unconscious on the ground, beside the grave. He was soaked withhis own perspiration. She knew he had a raging fever and instructedthe men to carry him up to bed immediately. She sent down to thecabins for Lucy. "If he dies--you die," Jacquine stated flatly."When you know for certain one way or the other, you will come andtell me."
Lucy worked over her patient day and nightfor a week. It was not an easy task. He was well over six feet ofraving, cursing, struggling male animal. Her emotions ran the gamutof fear, hatred and eventually compassion for the man in hercharge. Finally he looked at her with comprehension. She wasstartled as he hissed, "Why didn't you let me die?"
She ran for her mistress, who came with suchcaring haste he would never know she hadn't attended him once sincehe fell ill.
