Rouge (#1 in the Cheveux Roux series) Read online

  “Yes?”

  “Well,” He looked concerned as he stepped closer to me. “I suppose you might’ve expected me to feel this way. I mean if you knew me at all.”

  “What is it?”

  Fear, my constant companion, pricked at my back. What if he’d discovered the truth? What if he knew I wasn’t a lady, that I was one step above a street tramp, and that I lived in a brothel? That Teeny was a foundling and not my cousin. Oh, God, I couldn’t lose Freddie now.

  His gray eyes caught mine and his voice lowered. “I was hoping you’d know… that I so want to kiss you.”

  Relief hit me with such force, I almost grabbed him around the neck to molest his mouth. In the moment it took me to recover, Freddie immediately began backpedaling.

  “Forgive me,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to startle you with my impetuosity. I was only thinking, it has been so many weeks now, and I was sure…”

  “Freddie,” I said, smiling and gazing at his lips. “I’ve so wanted to kiss you, too.”

  He quickly caught my waist and leaned forward, pressing our mouths together. I opened mine at once, but he jumped and pulled back, cheeks flushed.

  “I say,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “Your lips are wonderfully soft.”

  “And yours are so warm,” I made my voice breathless, pretending to be overwhelmed by my first kiss. “Did I do it right?”

  “Oh, yes. You did it perfectly.” His eyes moved to mine, and I blinked slowly. I reached forward again to touch his hand. He took it in his.

  “Can we try it again?” I whispered.

  His cheeks grew slightly redder, but he leaned forward. When our mouths touched this time, I parted my lips slowly and slipped my hand up to his cheek. He held me a beat longer, before his tongue tentatively touched mine. Then suddenly, as if feeling a shock, he stepped back and cleared his throat again.

  “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to be too forceful.”

  “Oh, Freddie, it was exotic,” I smiled. “I hope we can do it again.”

  His eyes went to mine, and he smiled as if we now shared a secret. When he spoke, his voice was low.

  “I hope so as well. And I wonder… my dear Hale,” he studied my eyes. “Is it possible you might ever think of me as more than just a dedicated fan?”

  “Freddie, I hope you know,” I touched his arm. “I’ve always thought of you as more than a fan.”

  The smile on his face was utter delight, but Rosa appeared, pushing her way between us to enter my small room. He straightened and perched his hat back on his head. “Then perhaps we can discuss something a bit more engaging tomorrow.”

  My heart jumped. “I’d love that!”

  He caught my hand and raised it to his lips again. “For now, then. Goodnight. Dear.”

  I leaned against the entrance and exhaled, watching him disappear down the passage and out the side exit. But I quickly straightened up when Beau stepped around the corner at the far end of the hall.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was waiting for him to leave so we could talk.”

  I nodded, my heart beating faster with each step he took closer. He stopped in front of me, and for a moment we couldn’t speak. I was certain his thoughts were with mine—on our last time together. He stepped forward and pulled me to him. I tried to resist, but it was no use. I wanted to be in his arms.

  “Hale,” he sighed.

  I rested my cheek on his chest and listened to his heartbeat keeping time with mine. The sound filled me with joy as I circled a button on his shirt with my finger.

  “How can you say this doesn’t matter?” He asked against the top of my head.

  I couldn’t. Things were moving in the right direction with Freddie, and Teeny was safe, for the moment at least. How could it hurt if I stole just a few seconds of happiness? If I put that part of my life, the part I had no feelings for, on a shelf and indulged this one, my dream life where I could do whatever I pleased and where my decisions only involved me. My secret heaven that was mine alone.

  Beau straightened up and held me back to face him. “I was thinking we could go out tonight and have some fun. Just the two of us, amusing ourselves outside this place.”

  “Go out? But where would we go?” Apart from meetings on the roof, I avoided leaving the theater after dark. Rosa’s stories still frightened me, and I believed her when she said I didn’t want to see what lurked in the dark streets after hours.

  “Anywhere, everywhere… wherever we want. New Orleans is amazing after dark. You’re saying you’ll go?”

  I thought about it, evaluating his excited expression. I knew if I were with him, I’d be safe, like always.

  “We can’t stay out late.”

  “It’s already late,” he laughed. “But I’ll get you home before dawn. Hurry up and change. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  He leaned forward and kissed my lips. I reached up to hold him, but he was already gone, making his way down the passage. He looked back and smiled before he disappeared through the door.

  “Back soon,” he called.

  Rosa was frowning when I stepped into my room again, but I couldn’t help smiling. “You’re making a mistake,” she said. “What if you run into Freddie?”

  “We won’t run into Freddie. We’re not going anywhere. Beau just wants to spend a little time together.”

  “I don’t like it and neither will Gavin.”

  “Then don’t tell anyone. Especially not Gavin.”

  I quickly removed my makeup and costume as I spoke. Then I stepped over to the closet to fumble through my dresses. “What should I wear?”

  “I don’t know,” Rosa groused. “A proper lady doesn’t go out after dark.”

  “You’ve forgotten, I’m not a lady. But at least I’ll have an escort.”

  “Beau isn’t an escort. He’s in love with you.”

  Her words sent such a rush through me, I caught the door handle and waited for it to pass.

  “Oh, Rosa,” I breathed. “If only…”

  I couldn’t say the words out loud or even finish the thought, but my meaning must’ve been clear. She stepped to me and squeezed my arms.

  “Here,” she said. “Let me help you.”

  * * *

  The French Quarter was glistening in the cool, damp night, and it was alive with people and activity. The smoky street lamps made colorful, rainbow reflections in the puddles, and the sound of music filled the air. I saw couples dancing with their arms locked around each other, and I heard loud, boisterous laughter through the tavern doors.

  My disguise consisted of a long, black skirt and maroon waistcoat with a dark shawl that covered my head in case we saw anyone we knew. Beau took me down several narrow passageways until we were at the levee, racing up the hill to see the river spread out massive and brown before us. The currents snaked past each other in its center, creating a swirling effect, and a humid breeze hit us with short, cool gusts. Winter was coming, or at least the few weeks of cold we called winter this far south.

  It was a clear night, and the moonlight danced on the mixed-up water in silvery sparkles as the sound of a saxophone played low and a guitar strumming in time drifted across the water to us from Algiers. I allowed my wrap to drop to my shoulders, and Beau pulled me to him. We were dancing, but not like any dance I’d ever done before. It was like the couple I’d seen in the tavern, and I rested my head against his cheek as he clasped my hand in his, his other arm tightly encircling my waist. I tried to think of a time when I’d ever felt this safe and warm. Happy. It was as if for this one night I’d been given a holiday—no fear, and nothing bad could happen.

  “It’s a perfect night,” he whispered into my hair.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. The dewy grass-scent mixed with Beau’s warmth and etched a permanent memory in my mind. The song ended and he stepped back, still holding my hand, walking down toward the river. I sat on the grass and he stepped toward the water’s edge.

 
“It’s so huge,” he said, looking out at the lights of a riverboat in the distance. Then he spun around to face me, stretching his arms wide. “We could get on a boat and take it anywhere we wanted.”

  He took a step toward me, but his foot slipped and he fell, landing with a loud Oof! right next to where I was sitting. I burst out laughing, and the sound was so strange, I almost didn’t recognize it. He smiled and slid to a sitting position, dusting his palms together.

  “I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

  I cleared my throat and tried to stop, but I was giddy and couldn’t. Instead, I placed my hand over my mouth to hide my grin.

  “It’s always so intense back at the theater,” I finally managed.

  He slid closer to me, and I leaned back, nestling into his arms.

  “I like it,” he said, his face low to mine, our lips a breath apart.

  He slid my hair away from my cheek before gently easing me down and kissing me. My eyes closed as a new song drifted across the water to us. His warm lips parted mine and a wave of desire passed through my stomach. I reached up to touch his cheek and everything went away, from the damp grass at my back to how short I knew this holiday would last. Reality was only a few hours away, but in this moment, I was safe in Beau’s arms. His mouth traveled to my cheek and then my jaw, tickling my neck, and I opened my eyes to see thousands of stars glittering above us.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I breathed.

  He lifted his head to smile at me, and I touched his face, his bright eyes, then I ran my finger down his nose to his lips, which he pushed out in greeting. I’d never been so light and free, and I couldn’t help laughing again. But he stood, pulling me to my feet with him.

  “There’s another place I want to take you first,” he said.

  “First?”

  “On our way to my place.”

  I paused, and he waited, watching my expression. Our recent kisses had my stomach in tingling knots, but I still wasn’t sure how far I was willing to go. How much I was willing to risk.

  “So about this place,” he continued. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, just an old hall where musicians gather to play and people stand around and watch. And the music… you won’t believe how great it is.”

  “Is it ragtime?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Then he took my hand, leading me back over the levee and down the hill. Short palmettos sprouted along the sides of gravel alleys, and twisted wisteria grew up abandoned fence posts and pretty much anything that would stand still. In the spring they dropped lightly scented, purple blooms everywhere, but now they were simply ragged green vines that resembled weeds more than anything else.

  We reached the bottom and crossed the cobbled street to the square near the statue of Andrew Jackson on horseback. The base still held the scrawled words The Union Must and Shall Be Preserved, and I thought of the animosity those words had caused during General Butler’s occupation of the city. I wasn’t alive then, and I looked away, not wanting anything to steal my joy tonight, least of all the arguments of old people. Old people and their Glorious Dead. But I couldn’t help stopping to look in the front window as we passed Marc’s jewelry store.

  There was a new display, and right in the center was a sparkling brass and cloisonné pen. My breath caught, and I felt the old fear slipping back.

  “What?” Beau stepped up next to me and looked in the window. “Do you like that?”

  “It was my father’s.”

  The words were out before I could stop them. I’d never told anyone how I was supporting Teeny and me. Not even Rosa.

  “Your father’s?” He looked at me. “How do you know?”

  I tried to laugh again, but this time I could hear the difference from just a few moments before. I shook my head.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  I looked into his blue eyes and tried not to care. “Remember that Sunday? When I was here running an errand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was really trading that for money to buy shoes.”

  A flash of pain crossed his face and he pulled me to him. My throat tightened, and I struggled back.

  “Don’t,” I said. “It had to be done. I can’t regret it now.”

  “Still, it was your father’s.”

  “No. Not tonight.”

  He pressed his lips together and looked at the window again. My hand hadn’t left his, and I stepped back, pulling him into the square again, away from my sad memories, my reality. He breathed and took the lead again, and I followed him past the massive white church with its three skinny, slate-gray spires pointing high into the night sky.

  As we walked down the narrow, cobbled streets, I realized that except for that one moment, I hadn’t stopped smiling since we stepped foot outside the theater. We’d sneaked through the city like runaways, and his hand only left mine for a moment. It became the strongest sense I had of the night. So far.

  Finally we found the place Beau had told me about, and as we entered the dark, smoky hall, I saw a room to the side that was filled with people sitting on chairs or on the floor. Some were spilling out into the passage where the music echoed off the wood floors and walls. Beau pulled me to the doorway, and I felt his hands find my waist as he held me in front of him. The air was smoky, and it was unusual to see so many men and women of different races crowded together after hours.

  We watched as Negroes in bowlers played trumpets and clarinets. One had a guitar, another had an upright bass and still another a tuba. Beau was right—it was captivating, and I watched the crowd sway and nod to the rhythms. Their songs stretched on for several minutes as each musician took a turn improvising.

  I studied the emotions in the musicians’ faces and the silky expertise with which they manipulated their instruments, and something deep within me connected with the sounds. I wondered what Roland would think, and I looked up at the faces of the audience, black and white, pushed in together, smiling. Some had their eyes closed; others were laughing and keeping time, starting to dance. Everyone felt it. We were all here smashed together in one hall, and the music seemed to erase the hatred that would otherwise have kept us apart.

  “What do you think?” Beau’s lips were close to my ear, and I turned and kissed them before answering.

  “I love it,” I said.

  He looked deep into my eyes and smiled, and I glanced away before I blushed. That’s when I spotted him. Two green eyes were fixed on me from across the room, and my body tensed. Beau’s hands tightened at my waist.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked frowning.

  But I couldn’t break the stare of the man whose gaze held mine. It was Gavin. His frown shook me, and the knowledge of what I was doing, what I was jeopardizing, hit me hard.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said, backing away. Memories of Guy and his visit and what it meant came rushing back stronger, as if they were angry for being shut out even an hour.

  I fled from the doorway, Beau right on my heels.

  “What happened?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

  “I just realized how late it is, and I’ve got to get back. Someone might see us.”

  “But… Are you worried about Freddie? Because I don’t think—”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know,” I stammered, pulling my wrap over my head again. “We could run into anybody out here, and it could get back to…”

  He had found my hand again, clutching it in his. The warmth was reassuring, but I was too shaken to relax. He led me back through the damp streets. At a corner we paused. A dark lump huddled in the shadows tilted its head, and two shining eyes peered out.

  “Opal?” the scratchy, female voice asked. I jumped and drew into Beau’s side. The woman smiled, revealing a horrid display of rotting teeth. “Is that you?”

  I jumped ahead, running down the street, Beau right on my heels. I heard her shouting after us, calling my mother’s name.

  “Do you know that woman?” he asked when we
reached the next corner.

  I shook my head. I didn’t know her, but could she have known my mother? Did she know me? How?

  “Please take me home,” I said.

  My body was so tense, a dull ache had developed between my shoulder blades. We were away from the hag, and Beau took the lead again as finally we approached the looming structure I called home.

  We sneaked around to the back entrance, and I heard the shuffle of feet and the sound of female laughter. I froze in panic until I recognized the voice. It was Evie, and relief was my first emotion until I realized what she was doing—bidding goodnight to her two shadowy men. My throat went dry, and I thought I might be ill. Beau caught me and pressed my back against the side of the building, hiding my body with his.

  “They don’t see us,” he whispered directly into my ear.

  My face was buried in his chest, but I clutched his arm and peeked around him at the man handing Evie a small parcel.

  “The secret performers,” I said in a voice barely audible.

  He looked down at me, but I didn’t meet his eyes. “Have you ever… done that?”

  I buried my face in the warm layers of his coat again and shook my head. “But none of us are safe. It could happen to any of us. Some day.”

  I lifted my head to meet his gaze, and he stared at me without speaking for several seconds. The wall was cold and damp against my back, and Evie and the men were gone. I pushed out of Beau’s arms and walked slowly toward the door. The time had come for dreaming to end and for me to get back to reality. My reality. But he caught me at the door and pulled me to him.

  “I understand now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to change things with us.”

  I shook my head. “Teeny’s here because of me. She has no idea, and I won’t let her… I won’t ever.” I stopped talking as my throat grew tight.

  Beau lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Let me help you.”

  “I don’t have time to wait.”

  “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  “Neither will I.”

  I pulled away from him and pushed through the metal door into the dark passage.