Chapter 3

Drake leaned against the closed door inside his room at the Casa Bayou Inn. The day had been too long. He and Girard hadn't arrived in Jadesville until dusk. Earlier that evening, they'd made a brief stop at the inn to secure two rooms before heading to the tavern,eager to unwind from a long journey by having a few drinks.

But now that he'd returned for some much-needed rest, he decided to assess his lodgings.

The room wasn't worth comparing to the elegant hotels in New Orleans with their large suites and complimentary gift baskets full of chocolates, fruits, and bottled wines. But this room was quaint, well kept, and most importantly fitted with the essentials: a bed, end table, and chair.

Drake yawned, his mind cataloging the events of the day. When he hadn't been roasting in the sun, he'd been leading his reluctant steed through swamplands. He had fought against thirst and fatigue, his tongue pasty and glued to the roof of his mouth, his clothes wet and clinging.?

The partial shade of the overgrown, moss-laden cypress trees hadn't helped much. The journey had been a slow abominable torture. It was a pity that there were no trains in this region.

How convenient for his business partner, Daniel Jouvin, to pass up this trip,having had 'pressing business elsewhere' that prevented him from traveling. A convenient excuse, but likely legit, Drake supposed. Daniel, after all, was one of the wealthiest men he knew, although he lived modestly, keeping his English lineage unrevealed to many.

Well, so much for well-laid plans, Drake grumbled. Another day spent in Jadesville was an unnecessary waste of time and effort, Girard had argued. It wouldn't be long before Jadesville got swallowed up in the conflict between Indians and settlers. Morgan would get what he wanted,it was only a matter of time.

Drake sat on the edge of the bed. His gut told him that William was interested in the deal. But what about the scarlet haired woman??

I didn't even catch her name. He scolded himself as he called to mind her every curve.

She was nothing like the Society snobs he encountered back home. He could see through the trickery and juvenile games of these shallow debutantes who'd been trying to lure him into a marriage since puberty.?

Tall and masculine in his youth, Drake's romantic experiences with women started early in life at the tender age of fifteen. But since the first of his erotic liaisons with women, he'd learned to make love in various ways, improving with each session. In his thirty-two years, he'd never received a complaint.

Regardless of what Girard may have thought about his womanizing ways, he'd long ago outgrown loving and leaving a string of women behind him. For the first time in his life, there was only one woman, Isadora Marcos. Thinking of her always troubled his mind.

Putting thoughts of Isadora aside, he rose from the bed, restless. Deciding to go for a walk, he noted the late hour on the pocket watch that he always carried, a gift from his father.

His ties to his father, Randal McCalister, went far beyond their fashion sense. Their most significant enterprise was the family business, which Drake would take over soon, allowing Randal his retirement.

Instead of following Randal's footsteps into the trading and auctioneering business immediately after completing his education, Drake had opened a law practice, McCalister, Larivière, and Jouvin to help the poor in need who couldn't afford a costly attorney.?

And Drake wasn't about to abandon his negotiations with William without giving it another try. He couldn't stand by and let townsfolk become the next casualties of an impending war easily avoided by Morgan bringing in railroad transport.

Putting on his frock coat, Drake exited his room.

* * *

The chilly night air was a welcome contrast to the blistering hell Drake had survived earlier that day. He kicked pebbles beneath his boots while walking along the dirt road, poorly lit with lampposts few in-between. He missed the paved cobblestone streets of New Orleans, and his home, Newhaven, about an hour's ride outside the city.?

He missed his early morning rides along the Mississippi River on his trusty steed, Knight, and the bustling everyday life of the city he loved.

Consumed by thoughts, he hadn't realized how far he'd wandered. Now he was standing a few feet away from William's tavern, wondering about the alluring woman who worked there.?

He glimpsed his waist to see if he'd remembered to strap on his revolver and found to his relief that it rested securely on his hip. If trouble arose, he'd be ready. However, he never drew his gun unless his life depended on it.

Still, a confrontation with William wasn't worth losing a lucrative deal, and Drake knew he'd be damned if he walked any closer to that tavern. William owned most of the properties in Jadesville, and making an enemy out of William wasn't wise if he wanted to convince William to sell.

"Time to return to the Casa Bayou," Drake murmured as he saw the redhead step through the swinging doors of the bar. She was no longer wearing her flirtatious costume. She was wearing a frilly white blouse, a brown skirt that left little skin exposed, and leather matching boots. Pushing past slovenly men at the exit, she kicked up her heels, heading in his direction.?

Everything that happened in the bar came rushing back to him,her song and dance, her scent, and the way her body embraced his. He grinned with anticipation, instantly deciding to introduce himself properly.

"Good evening," Drake greeted her with his most sincere smile as she passed him.

Sierra's heart skipped a beat at the sound of his deliciously smooth voice. Never had she heard such a velvety voice on a man. If he commanded it, heaven and earth might move to his will because his tone must match the sound of a beautiful Greek god's, she mused playfully. At least, his body was so hard it could be made of alabaster.

She dared not look directly into his curious eyes, for fear that he'd know how attractive she found him.?