as he shoved his way inside, bellowing, “Auntie E! You have company.”
Turning apologetically to Noelani, Adam added, “Jackson thinks Esme’s losing her hearing. Casey claims Esme plays her TV so loud she wouldn’t hear if dynamite went off on this level. Excuse me a minute, please. I’ll go knock on her sitting-room door.”
Adam hurried away. Noelani found herself gazing around a tall-ceilinged shotgun hall, twelve to fifteen feet wide, that ran from one end of the house to the other. Scarred hardwood floors were glossy black. Large oil paintings of flowers and landscapes hung on walls illuminated by three chandeliers, whose diffused light shivered through hundreds of intricate crystal prisms. Off to her left, she saw Adam lope up a sweeping staircase.
Tiptoeing over to double French doors, Noelani peered through beveled glass panes into a room too elegant to be livable. The furniture looked uncomfortable, and there were no pillows, books or toys lying around. Everything shone with polish.
A noise had her jerking back, turning toward the stairs where a stiff-backed elderly woman slowly descended. Damn Adam Ross. He’d abandoned her to this aunt she’d never met.
Yanking discreetly at her wrinkled short skirt, Noelani also attempted to straighten the damp collar of her blouse. If she’d dared hope Esme Fontaine would be plump and jovial like her tutu, she would have miscalculated. The aunt wore a jade crepe dress sprigged with yellow flowers, an ensemble made dressier by a citrine choker and matching earrings. Not a hair of her perfectly coifed auburn hair was out of place. Even the jeweled collar worn by the small gray dog prancing at her heels cried out pampered wealth. She crooned to the animal in French.
As her father’s sister drew nearer, Noelani was faintly relieved to see curiosity and not hostility in the pale ocean-green eyes. She recalled her mother mentioning how captivating she’d found Fontaine’s green eyes. Noelani took immense satisfaction in knowing she, at least, didn’t share that family trait.
“So, you’re Duke’s secret daughter?” Esme murmured in a slightly nasal inflection, as if English wasn’t her first language. Noelani found it reminiscent of the many French-speaking South Seas islanders. Anela had spoken French fluently, and Noelani had a passable command of the language.
“Oui,” she murmured, considering whether or not she ought to curtsey.
“My dear, you are wetter than Adam indicated. I sent him to check the towels in your boudoir. We’ve hosted a round of guests this past week, what with two funerals.” She shook her head without displacing even a hair. “Even though Jackson knew the property settlement meeting was scheduled for tonight, he gave Betty Rabaud, our cook-housekeeper, the day off. But come, we mustn’t keep you shivering in the hall.” Esme scooped up the yipping dog and started back up the curving stairs.
Noelani shouldered her purse and her overnight case. She gamely grasped the handles of her two larger bags.
“Leave those,” Esme said sharply. “Adam will bring them. Won’t you, mon chèr?” She fluttered an age-spotted hand. Fire shot from her many rings.
Glancing up, Noelani caught sight of Adam Ross striding down the stairs. His nut-brown hair curled over his forehead as it dried. The man she’d more or less dismissed suddenly had alarm bells clanging in her head as he closed in on her.
Noelani stepped aside. Even if he was about as perfect a specimen of manhood as she’d ever chanced to encounter, she hadn’t come to Baton Rouge to dally with men. And if she did feel like indulging in a fling, she’d never choose some honey-voiced southerner. Her mother’s bleak existence had taught Noelani that much.
Work. Hard work. She’d found that to be far more satisfying than either of her own brief romances. Both had occurred while she was attending college and were irrelevant to her life—then or now.
Dropping her bags at Adam’s feet without a word, she carefully skirted his broad shoulders and ran up the stairs to catch Aunt Esme of the poker back.
Esme crossed a hall at the top of the stairs and flung open a white door. “This will be your room throughout your stay at Bellefontaine. I must say you aren’t what I expected. It appears your mother at least taught you to dress like a lady.”
Noelani thought of the suitcase brimming with shorts and jeans. She’d brought one suit and two semidressy outfits in case she had to be here a week or two. But she wouldn’t, not if the property settlement was tonight.
As she stepped into the room, everything else flew right out of her mind. “Oh! This room is beautiful. Look—carved pineapples on the bedposts. On the cornice, as well.”
“I thought you’d like the pineapple bedroom.” Esme seemed pleased.
“Oh—there’s a pineapple carved on the ceiling medallion.” Now Noelani saw that the bedspread, too, had been crocheted in a pineapple motif. “Do you grow pineapples at Bellefontaine?”
“Mercy, no. It’s generally thought that early Louisiana plantation owners hosted visitors from the islands.” Esme lowered her voice. “There’s an old custom in Louisiana of delivering a fresh, whole pineapple to guests on their arrival. It’s said that if guests overstayed their welcome, they’d wake up to a cut pineapple on their dressers, signifying it was time to leave.”
“Uh, thanks for the warning, but I’m not planning to overstay my welcome.”
Esme chuckled as she backed out the door. “You’re Duke’s daughter, all right. I do believe you’ll give Cassandra and Jackson a run for their money. If you’d like a tour of Bellefontaine after you’ve had a chance to freshen up, I’m in the last room at the south end of the hall. Dinner is at eight. Cocktails at the table tonight. Except for Adam, you and I have the place to ourselves until seven. Tanya, Miss Megan’s nanny, has taken the child to an after-school movie in town. Ah, here’s Adam with your cases.”
She moved to one side, allowing him room to enter. “I know you’re impatient to get back to work, Adam. However, I was telling Noelani we’re dining at eight tonight. I trust we’ll see you then?”
He gave a brief jerk of his chin, which sent a gold cross he wore around his neck swinging. Even though the room was large, he seemed to fill it as he entered and set her bags near the bed. Ignoring Noelani, he turned and went out again, chatting amiably with Aunt Esme about dinner.
Overwhelmed and more homesick than ever, Noelani flung herself across the crocheted pineapple spread. She blinked up at a frothy canopy hooked to the four corners of the tall bedposts. The tears that stung the backs of her eyelids didn’t fall—but only by the sheer force of her will. She hadn’t expected to be welcomed like a long-lost sister, but she didn’t need hired help like Adam Ross slighting her as a blatant reminder that she didn’t belong at Bellefontaine.
Vaulting off the bed, intent on changing out of her wet clothes, she made up her mind. By damn, she’d give Cassandra and Jackson a run for their money, just like Esme had predicted. Their money? Well, her portion of it, anyway.
They were divvying up Duke Fontaine’s guilt money tonight, and all the people involved knew it.
CHAPTER TWO
ADAM ESCAPED NOELANI’S ROOM not a second too soon. Her light, spicy perfume seemed to follow him. He’d promised Esme he’d show up for dinner, but he doubted it’d be an enjoyable occasion given the vulnerability he’d noticed in their guest’s eyes as they left her alone in the pineapple
