Daughters of the Summer Storm by Frances Statham (good fiction books to read TXT) 📕

eyes when she was in the room, and to gurgle when she held him.

Maranta released her long, black, silken hair from the confinement of her combs and brushed it vigorously. The long white embroidered robe that she had worn when she was pregnant was more comfortable than the gowns and peignoirs that she had brought with her from Charleston. She stared in the mirror. Her figure had changed, taking on a more womanly shape after the birth of Paulo. Now, her gowns were too tight across her breasts. But she had not mentioned the problem to anyone. She did not want to ask Vasco for money to replenish her wardrobe. But neither did she feel she could request it of Ruis. Her position was too awkward.

Suddenly wanting to take one last look at little Paulo, Maranta left her apartment and silently walked down the deserted hall to the nursery.

When she entered, the lamp was burning low on the table. Maranta tiptoed to the ornate crib. Paulo was awake. He gave her a toothless grin, and she could not resist taking him up to hold in her arms. It would be such a long time before she saw him again.

"Paulo," she whispered, "I love you." She bent down to kiss him, and he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it to his mouth.

Behind her, a voice said, "He is a true Monteiro male, is he not?—reaching out for what he wants."

A large brown hand removed Maranta's hair from the baby's grasp, and when she was free, Maranta gazed into the amused dark eyes of Ruis.

"I came to say good-bye, since we leave so early in the morning," Maranta apologized.

A tender look replaced the amusement in Ruis's face. "There is no need to explain, menina. Is it not a mother's right to hold her son whenever she wishes?"

"It will be such a long time. . ."

"I know, Maranta. And I, too, will miss seeing him." Ruis stared at the child in Maranta's arms, and he reached out to touch the baby's plump cheek.

The man was too close. A breathlessness came over Maranta. She placed the child again in his crib and turned to leave. "Good night, Ruis," she said, trying to escape.

"I will walk with you to your apartment," he said, closing the nursery door behind him.

Maranta hurried along the corridor. "Do you have everything packed?" Ruis asked when they neared the sitting room door.

"Yes."

Maranta stopped and waited for Ruis to open the door. Instead, he took her hand in his and drew it to his lips. Maranta trembled. In the dim, deserted hall they stood, staring at each other. The tension was more than Maranta could bear. His fingers caressed her arm in a sensuous motion.

"Maranta," he whispered, moving toward her. Afraid her heart would give her away, she moaned and stepped back. Ruis, seeing her recoil at his touch, took his hand from her arm.

"Good night, Maranta."

He left her at the door and walked rapidly down the hall.

Sassia came into the bedroom with the breakfast tray in her hands before dawn. "Senhora, it is time to get up," she said, standing by the bed.

Maranta stirred but did not waken.

"Senhora," Sassia called again. "Dom Ruis is almost ready to leave."

The words woke her, and Maranta sat up, brushing her long hair from her face and yawning. Ruis would be impatient to start, just as he had been at the port of Santos. How could she forget? She must not keep him waiting for her. The candle flame sputtered before turning into a steady glow at Maranta's touch.

"I'll have breakfast in the sitting room, Sassia," she said, slipping into the robe and walking barefoot over the furry white carpet with the candlestick in her hand. The black girl followed and placed the tray on the table beside the lilac sofa.

By the light of the candle, Maranta sipped the hot tea and ate a slice of melon. She left the corn cakes on her plate and returned to the bedroom to wash her face and put on her traveling dress and cape with the servant's help.

Soon she was ready, and her excitement at the trip vied with her reluctance to leave little Paulo. "Sassia, you will help to watch over Paulo while I am gone?"

"Of course, senhora," the girl answered. "Do not worry. Naka and I will watch over him well."

"Thank you," Maranta murmured, taking her reticule in her hands.

She had to have one last quick look at her child to make sure he was all right. Maranta dashed toward the nursery and walked into the room. Paulo was still asleep. She stood gazing down at the baby and a sudden sense of foreboding swept over her.

He was so tiny. Anything could happen to him while she was away. Maranta swallowed and forced back the tears. It was unfair of Ruis to expect her to leave him for an entire month.

She did not have to go to São Paulo. Dona Isobel and Ruis could go on without her; she would stay. Having made up her mind, she hurried out to the fazenda steps where the wagon containing their trunks stood.

"Please," she said in her halting Portuguese to the two boys near the wagon. "Will you take my trunk and set it back inside the house?"

Puzzled at her request, the two boys nevertheless took her trunk and carried it up the steps to the veranda just as Ruis walked out of the sala da entrada.

"What are you doing?" he asked the boys in a displeased voice.

"The senhora wishes her trunk brought back inside," one boy said, looking toward Maranta and then back to Ruis.

"Return it to the wagon."

"Sim, Dom Ruis."

The boys reloaded the trunk while Maranta stared open-mouthed at the arrogant conde. With her skirts rustling from her rapid steps, she approached him.

"I have changed my mind, Ruis. I am not going to São Paulo."

His sapphire eyes in the early morning sun sparked with anger. "It is too late, menina, for you to