Surrender to Love Read online

  “Don’t make judgments before you know the man well, dear. And you know,” she said apologetically and patted Sabine’s hand lovingly. “There are just some things we cannot change.”

  Sabine watched as Adele turned from her and began to stack bolts of calico on the shelves. Mama was wrong, she thought angrily as the insinuations manifested themselves clearly in her mind. There were some things she could change.

  But the nagging voice still persisted in reminding her that her guardian was correct…and Sabine hated to admit it. There just had to be some way to make him notice her, and then she would prove to Mama that she was all wrong.

  “All right,” she conceded wearily, only for the benefit of Adele’s ears. “You know he and I are…different. People would talk.” She had said the words so many times in the past that they now seemed mechanical. “But I want to believe,” she burst out suddenly. “I want to believe none of it matters.”

  They stared at each other for a fleeting moment, each silently willing the other to change her mind, before turning back to the task at hand.

  None of it matters, Sabine stubbornly repeated over and over in her head. It doesn’t. If he would just talk to me, get to know me, then he would realize…I’m not so very different.

  She absently ran her hand over a length of soft, pink cotton. She wasn’t so very different…really.

  Of course, she realized in a sudden dawning as he gaze remained fixed on the fabric before her. That’s what the problem was in the first place. She skeptically eyed her pink skirts. He didn’t notice her because she looked so dowdy in this old, ragged dress. It was two years old, and the fabric was faded from wear. If she had a new dress…something to catch his eye…

  Adele handed over the final bolt of cloth and glanced at Sabine. “I’m sorry. But it’s not as though we haven’t warned you in the past,” Adele said quietly. “You can’t change society just to suit your desires. Life doesn’t work that way, my dear.”

  “I know,” Sabine replied, false rejection framing the edges of her resolute sigh. “You’re right. But it doesn’t mean I have to continue wearing all these old things, does it,” she added brightly as she steered away from the subject at hand. “I mean, this dress is two years old. The elbows are beginning to wear out, and – “

  “All you have to do is ask,” Adele interjected, thankful that the discussion concerning Troy was finally at an end. “What is it you want?”

  “This,” Sabine said excitedly as she snatched up the soft cotton. “Oh, please, Mama. I’ll never ask for another thing as long as I live.”

  Eyes sparkling, Sabine held the fabric in front of her and draped a piece over her shoulder. The thought of her imminent self-transformation brought forth a series of giggles that she could not suppress. Yes, this was all she needed – and then he would notice her.

  “You know we’ll give you everything you possibly can,” Adele told her with a warm smile.

  Adele looked tenderly at the girl she called her daughter. How her heart ached when she saw the manner in which others treated her, and over the years she had loved and raised her as though Sabine were her own.

  But no matter how fervently she wished, she knew that the burgeoning young woman that stood before her was nothing more than loaned property from Clinton Markham. And the thought had crossed her mind more than once that the child might be his, but she didn’t want to face that possibility. It would hurt far too much to confront that ugly reality. Of course, Clinton had let them take vast liberties with her – even to the point of allowing an education – but all the same, Sabine was not really and truly theirs. And Adele, who had never been able to birth a child, mourned the fact, but she had never been strong enough to tell Sabine the truth of her situation. It was for the best, she assured herself many times. It was one less thing for the girl to worry about.

  “What’s this,” a masculine voice boomed behind them.

  Sabine turned to face the man and smirked as his false ferocity. Graying and stoop shouldered, John DuBois peered over his small, wire-rimmed eyeglasses and pretended to be angry with his two favorite ladies. They knew he wasn’t, though, for John could never be upset with anyone for long.

  “Hi, Papa,” Sabine piped up brightly, and dashed from behind the counter to embrace him.

  “It’s just girl talk,” Adele supplied as she dismissed the disappointment from her eyes. She smiled warmly at her husband.

  He threw his hands up in mock despair. “In that case,” he responded, “I will adjourn to the back room…where I’ll be safe.” His eyes twinkled merrily behind his spectacles.

  Sabine watched with bubbling anticipation as her mother accompanied Papa to review the month’s bookkeeping. Four weeks. She had four weeks to create the most sumptuous gown…four weeks to transform herself into the type of girl Troy Markham would admire.

  XXX

  She felt gloriously wonderful and frightfully nervous all at the same time.

  Sabine laid out her new dress with all its finery and examined it with pride. She had created this. Designed it. Sewn every stitch. And it was the most beautiful gown she had ever known. The billowing pink skirt flowed out over the floorboards, and she fingered the white ruffles across the bodice.

  She settled in front of her little dressing table and gazed into the mirror. A virtual stranger stared back. Tan cheeks were colored with a faint, natural blush, and sparkling green eyes enhanced her beauty. She pulled her locks off her face with a favorite pink ribbon, leaving her hair to cascade down her back.

  “Sabine,” John called up, “your mother has gone to do the marketing. Could you help put these deliveries away?”

  She checked her appearance once more in the mirror, smoothing a few stray hairs back to their rightful places with a nervous hand. She now had her chance. She drew a deep breath as she reached the bottom of the stairs and muttered the invocation she had said so many times before.

  She was ready.

  Putting on her most dazzling smile, she entered the main room as the delivery man entered.

  Only, Troy never followed behind him. Her smile quickly faded, and in its absence came a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The man who lumbered through the door gave her a jagged-tooth smile. Repulsed but the filthy, sweat-stained sight of him, Sabine averted her eyes and tried to ignore the reek that emanated from his person.

  “Well, hello there, missy,” he said.

  He leaned over the counter toward her as he appraised her openly…eyeing her as if he could tell what she looked like without her petticoats on! She wanted to shrink inside her dress, to disappear altogether.

  How could she have been such a fool, the nagging little voice inside her head shouted accusingly. Fool. Just a foolish, little seventeen-year old mulatto girl hoping for things she could never have.

  She refused to allow the tears of anger and humiliation spill over her cheeks. Swallowing her injured pride and shattered dreams, Sabine stared after him as he brought in their order of goods.

  But she breathed a sigh of relief. At least he had kept his distance; what would she have done if he dared to approach her otherwise? How ludicrous it was that these thoughts came to her. She knew it sounded terribly ridiculous to think that way, but it would have been incredibly naïve of her to believe that every person of the male sex was a gallant knight in shining armor. Sabine had overheard the gossip in the streets of the market place more than once.

  And she was not a complete fool. She knew what this man was.

  He handed over the invoice slowly, deliberately brushing his hand against the curve of her breast. The muscles of her stomach contracted violently, but she ignored his gesture and averted her eyes subserviently. She signed the piece of paper with a trembling hand, placing an X where her signature, with all its flourishes and curlicues, should have been. Sabine then squared her shoulders and handed him the sheet.

  “I know ‘bout you half-nigra gals,” he purred softly. “All hot and fire. Why don’tcha le
t me show you a little heat, huh?”

  “I-I’m not sure what you mean.”

  His eyes gazed at her levelly with a glint of malice. “I’m sure you do.”

  Indignation filled her at the insinuation he had made. How dare he say such a thing! Before she took the time to think of her actions, she reached out and soundly slapped him across the face. A look of surprise crossed the man’s features and he muttered a curse. Dazed, she slowly rubbed the stinging sensation from her palm while she fought back the tears of humiliation that began to form. With green eyes of icy fire she silently slid the proffered form across the counter toward him.

  “I could have you strung up for hittin’ a white man,” he snarled as he massaged his jaw.

  “I don’t care.”

  He smiled then, wickedly, as he shoved the invoice paper into his pocket. “Might change your mind if you was lookin’ at a hangman’s noose, nigra girl. Or thirty lashes.”

  He left in a hurry, nearly shattering the door’s glass behind him, and leaving in his wake the noisy jingling of bells. Tears of anger and humiliation that she had been struggling to hold back now began to spill over her cheeks. How could she have ever let that man goad her into striking him? He was right; she could be severely punished for that action. The tight lump of fear melted from within her and was washed away by her tears.

  She dashed them away when she heard John come to the front of the store. Smoothing her pink skirts, she nervously turned her back to him so he would not bear witness to her tearstained countenance. She drew a wavering breath and began to put the newly delivered items in their rightful places.

  “Sabine,” he called out. ”Did everything come?”

  She did not face him, but continue to fuss restlessly with the delivery.

  “Yes, Papa,” she answered in a quavering voice.

  “What’s wrong, kitten,” he asked, placing a hand tenderly on her trembling shoulder.

  “Nothing,” came her quick reply as she moved quickly past him and headed for the stairs.

  She darted up the steps in a rush of tapping heels and concealed herself behind the door of her small bedroom. She hated this – hated being seen as something that didn’t really matter. Couldn’t they see she was a person? A person with thoughts and feelings and dreams? Why did they ignore her? And why was it, that when they did pay even the least bit of attention to her, they treated her as though she were nothing more than an insignificant toy?

  But that was all they’d ever see her as, wasn’t it? Something to amuse themselves with. Something to laugh at.

  Sabine swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she slowly removed her dress and packed it carefully in her trunk. With it, she stored away her youthful dreams…her dreams that she could be accepted; her dreams that the world might someday look at her and see a person worthy of respect.

  But it would never happen here – not in New Orleans. And the dress – the wonderful, beautiful dress that she believed would unlock a brand new tomorrow – was no longer a symbol of the person she thought she would become.

  Chapter Two

  Sabine stared idly out of the shop window, her green eyes taking in the sodden, vacant streets. Six weeks had passed and Troy had yet to return. Disappointment encompassed her heart, but she refused to reveal the discontent that welled inside her, knowing that Mama would only lecture her again about false hopes; and Papa would laugh and dismiss her feelings as silly infatuation.

  With a sigh of resignation, she tucked herself behind the counter and picked up a worn volume that John had given her the day before. How thankful she was that Adele had tutored her over the years – especially when the schooling of Negroes was forbidden by law; she would have been so lonely without wonderful characters to share her time.

  Amid the soothing tones of pattering raindrops, Sabine lost herself completely to a world of knights and ladies fair. She imagined how wonderful it would be to have a gallant warrior sweep her onto his horse and whisk her away to the countryside…. She sighed, remembering it was merely a story, a fantasy.

  The tinkling of the door’s bell diverted her attention, and she glanced up to identify the crazy man who had dared to venture out in this torrent. His features were obscured by the collar of the frock coat he had turned up to ward off the rain.

  “May I help you,” Sabine inquired hesitantly.

  He turned then, and Sabine felt her heart flutter within her breast. She should have recognized him immediately. Troy Markham removed his hat and brushed aside the chestnut locks that had fallen haphazardly across his brow.

  Her heart pounded, and warm fingers of nervousness tugged at her insides as she took in every aspect of him. So long it had been, and here she was, face to face, without one rehearsed word of speech. Oh, God, she had better not make a fool of herself! An awkward smile played on her lips and she found it difficult to meet his gaze for any length of time.

  “Good afternoon, Miss DuBois,” he drawled as he brushed droplets from his shoulders.

  Words she had so often longed to say now stuck fast in her throat. She felt like a foolish child. She knew Troy was probably looking at her in the same fashion.

  “It’s Troy Markham,” he offered, revealing that dazzling smile of his that send Sabine yearning to melt in his arms.

  “Yes,” she managed to whisper hoarsely, “yes, I know.”

  His gaze discomfited her, and her eyes riveted to the counter before her.

  “I-it’s been a long time since we’ve seen you, Mr. Markham,” she stammered, but her heart sang out as she said his name aloud. How many times had she repeated that name over and over again?

  “It most certainly has, Miss DuBois,” he agreed as his blue eyes tried to search hers.

  God, she was evasive, he thought impatiently. Why didn’t she just brazenly reach for him like every other whore on the waterfront? His glance swept over her shapely form, but she did not seem to notice. He leaned over the counter and rested his elbows on it. Casually, deliberately, his hand brushed hers.

  Sabine started, but the shivers he sent through her nearly caused her to be delirious. He had touched her, and that meant he had definitely taken notice. He had not kept a cold distance, as he so often had done in the past; and she was positive wonderful things would now be in store for her. To have finally gained his attentions…

  A rush of emotions flooded Sabine’s center, twisting and burning as Troy’s fingertips lingered against the slender curve of her wrist. He must truly see her then, she decided her gaze intent on the masculine hand that rested so near to hers. And she prayed he saw her not as a simple Negro girl who wasn’t worth more than a cursory glance, but instead as a girl who mattered; a girl who was worthy of his notice.

  “George will be bringing everything inside,” Troy said lazily.

  Sabine’s heart quickened as her gaze locked with his and she barely noticed the burly Negro man who passed behind him. Dampness and cold permeated the shop, and she shivered, though she could not say whether it was due to the rain or the thrill of Troy’s presence.

  Uncomfortable with his piercing stare, she averted her eyes to the worn wood of the counter. So incredibly masculine he was, and Sabine was unsettled by his forward gestures. But oh, she could just imagine how grand it would be to be seen promenading down one of the fashionable streets of the city on Troy Markham’s arm. She would wear a fancy gown and bonnet and be the envy of everyone who passed, because, naturally, she would be with the handsomest man in all of New Orleans.

  “Are you happy here?” Troy probed quietly, hoping to draw her attentions to him completely.

  Sabine drew an astonished breath as she was abruptly brought out of her reverie and flushed hot with embarrassment.

  “Yes,” she stammered, taken aback by his strange questioning. “Yes, I am.”

  Awkwardly she took the invoice, reluctantly tearing her eyes from the gaze that held her captive. With a flustered hand she signed the bottom, careful not to muss her signature w
ith stray drops of ink.

  “Have a good afternoon, Miss Sabine DuBois,” he stated with a sink and a smile, and planted his hat firmly on his head.

  He left then, leaving Sabine with only the pattering of raindrops and the solitary retreat of a horse’s hooves. Her heart raced in the afterglow of their meeting, and it was all she could do not to waltz across the floor, to revel in his words, his touch.

  A few steps escaped her, and she succumbed, allowing herself to glide across the floor with unpracticed steps.

  “Why, yes, Mr. Markham,” she tittered to the broom she held as a dance partner. “I would love to accompany you to the governor’s ball…. What?... Oh, please, sir, you flatter me far too much. I could not possibly accept such a marriage proposal…. A trip to Europe?... Why, then, I’ll most certainly reconsider your offer.”

  With a hopeful heart, Sabine collapsed onto the stool behind the counter. Eyes bright with expectation, she stared out into the grey rain and found it beautiful.

  XXX

  Troy gritted his teeth, enduring the deluge that poured down upon him and eventually found its way down his back. Only a damned fool would be out in this weather, and he was just that. Was all this game playing worth just to get a half-bred girl into bed? He couldn’t possibly understand why she was acting so coy, when she had probably serviced every young buck who’d uttered a couple of words to her. Well, he’d play her game, if that’s what she wanted, but in the end he would win…and get what he had set his sights on.

  “George, will you get this damned thing out of here,” he snapped at the driver in frustration.

  “Yessuh,” the Negro man replied quickly and moved the bay horse into a quick trot.

  XXX

  Sabine stared at the brightly wrapped package the young Negro boy had left on the counter. She was sure it must be a mistake, but the boy said it was “fer Miz Sabine DuBois” and there was no possible way to doubt that.