The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras Read Online Free PDF

howl of the wind’
    “No! Not Edward,” replied the man. All I could see in the darkness were his eyes and hair—both so black that they shone like dark reflections from a glass mirror. He was a tall man, and handsome; certainly not fitting the description of my uncle Edward.
    “Good God, I could have run you down! What are you doing out here in this cursed rain?”
    “I—I came in on the Swamp Prince. My—my uncle was to meet me at the dock....” I began to explain between shivers. “No one came.”
    “Get in. You’re soaked!” I collected my hatbox, relieved that the contents hadn’t spilled upon the ground. Then he pulled me swiftly up into the carriage. With a rather disarming smile, he took in my bedraggled condition. I was aware of white teeth sparkling against dark skin. I thought about the Cajuns with their dark hair and eyes. Was he one of them, the exiled Acadians who lived in the backlands and swamps?
    “Your gown!” The stranger pulled a creased cloth from his pocket and, as if I were a small child, began to dab at the moisture that dripped from my hair to my shoulders. His hand stopped suddenly, inches from my breast.
    A sudden streak of light from the sky gave me a better glimpse of him; the smile was still there, reflected in those coal black eyes as he handed the cloth to me. “Perhaps that is a job better left to you, yes? I will rescue the luggage you left drowning upon the dock “
    I watched him wrestle my large trunk, then the smaller one to the top of the carriage as if they had no weight at all. My eyes slipped away to search for some sign of the voodoo man. In all the commotion, he had vanished. I could imagine him slipping silently as a water snake down one of the paths that led into the swamps. His disappearance gave me a dizzy feeling of relief, as if some heavy burden had been lifted. My plan of hailing the carriage had worked. I was safe!
    The owner of the carriage seemed kind. Something about his gentle voice and quiet strength commanded trust. “I am Louise Moreland,” I introduced myself as he climbed back up beside me. The drum of the rain beat an uneven tattoo upon the roof.
    He offered no name in return. Instead, he said, “Well, if I’ve almost run you over, I’ve also come to your rescue. Now, where are you bound? The MontClairs? The St. James’s?”
    “Mr. Edward Dereux is my uncle” I explained, still dabbing at the spots of mud that clung stubbornly to the lace of my bodice. “Have you heard of Royal Oaks?”
    “Of course I’ve heard of Royal Oaks!” he assured me. His voice remained calm and even, but I noticed that his hands had grown tight upon the reins. The mention of Royal Oaks had disturbed him in some way.
    “I don’t want to put you to trouble. If there is an inn nearby—”
    The horses slowed to clip-clop down a single street where a few eerie gaslights burned. I suddenly caught sight of an inn among the few wooden houses and taverns. “You can let me off here.”
    Did he not hear me? The blur of lights faded into a terrible darkness as the carriage began to slip down a primitive path that led sharply away from those faint, welcoming signs of civilization.
    “The inn—” I said in a shaky voice.
    He shook his head. “It’s not suitable. I’ll take you on to Royal Oaks.”
    “If it’s not far.”
    “Not far—” The unfinished sentence hung between us, insinuating something sinister. The last of the gaslights illuminated his face. I glanced over at him, alarmed to see that the charming smile had vanished. Through the darkness, I could see his lips curve and tighten into a look of—anger.
    Something in my stomach clenched and knotted. Had I unwittingly stumbled into an old enemy of my uncle’s? No, surely my imagination was running wild again. Yet, I remembered the same look on Ian Winters’s face when I had mentioned my uncle to him. Edward, evidently, was not a well-liked man.
    Swampy fingers of bayou followed on either side of the