“I consider myself an American now.” She answered him in English.
“How can you? You are French as I am French. We are of the great Courtalains. Think how we could continue the line.”
Nicole’s back straightened as she glared at him. “How dare you!” she gasped. “Do you forget my mother? You are married to her, yet you proposition me like some scullery maid.”
“How can I forget her when her screams nearly drive me mad? Do you think there is a minute that I’m not aware that I am bound to her? What can she give me? Can she give me children? I am a man, a healthy man, and I deserve children.” He grabbed her, pulled her close to him. “You are the only one. In all of this heathen country, you are the only one worthy to be the mother of my children. Yo
u are a Courtalain! Our children’s blood would flow with the blue of kings.”
It took Nicole a second to comprehend what he was saying. She felt her stomach turn over when she did understand. There were no words to express her feelings. She slapped him hard.
Gerard released her immediately and put his hand over his cheek. “You will pay for this,” he whispered. “You will be sorry you ever treated me like one of these filthy Americans. I will make you know who I am.”
Nicole turned away and went back to the garden. Janie had been right about Gerard after all. She vowed to stay away from the little Frenchman as much as possible.
Two weeks later, Wes brought the news that Clayton had married Bianca.
She braced herself against the impact of the news.
“I tried to reason with him,” Wes said. “But you know how stubborn Clay is. He’s never stopped loving you. When he heard about the annulment, he stayed drunk for four days. One of his men found him by the side of the swamp in the south pasture.”
“I assume he sobered up for his wedding,” she said coldly.
“He said he did it for the child. Goddamn him! I can’t understand how he could stomach going to bed with that cow.”
He caught Nicole’s arm as she turned away. “I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“How could you hurt me? Mr. Armstrong means nothing to me.”
Wes stood quietly and watched her go. He could strangle Clay for what he’d done to that beautiful young woman.
Arundel Hall was filthy. It hadn’t been cleaned in months. Bianca sat quietly at the dining table, eating ice cream and sugar cookies. Her enormous belly stuck out in front of her so far she looked as if she were about to deliver the child at any moment.
Clay came into the house, stopping at the dining room door. His clothes were muddy, his shirt torn. There were circles under his eyes, and his hair was plastered to his head from sweat. “What a lovely sight to come home to,” he said loudly. “My wife. Soon to be mother of my child.”
Bianca ignored him but continued slowly to eat the delicious, cold, rich ice cream.
“Eating for two, my dear?” he asked. When he got no response, he went upstairs. Dirty clothes were slung everywhere. He pulled open a drawer and saw that it was empty. No longer were there clean, mended shirts waiting for him.
He cursed and slammed the drawer, then went out of the house, walking quickly toward the river. He spent very little time at home now. His days he spent in the fields; his evenings he sat alone in the library and drank until he thought he could sleep. Even then, he rarely did.
At the river, he stripped off his clothes and dove into the water. After his bath, he stretched out on the grassy shore and fell asleep.
When he woke, it was night, and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. In a dazed, half-awake, half-asleep mood, he walked back to the house.
He heard the moaning as soon as he entered the house. Quickly, he shook himself out of the sleep. Bianca lay curled at the foot of the stairs, her hand holding her stomach.
He knelt beside her. “What is it? Did you fall?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Help me,” she gasped. “The baby.”
Clay didn’t touch her but ran from the house to get the plantation midwife. Within minutes he was back, the woman following him. Bianca lay just as he’d left her. He lit a lantern as the woman bent over Bianca.
She ran her hands over Bianca’s still form, and when she held them up to the light they were bloody. “Can you get her upstairs?”
Clay set the lantern down and lifted Bianca. The veins in his neck stood out as he strained to get her heavy form up the stairs. He laid her gently on the bed.
“Go get Maggie,” the midwife said. “I’ll need help for this one.”