Page 5 of Tanglewood Legacy (The Three Sisters 3)
The two men’s eyes widened at the heavy clink of the coins as she dropped them into Martin’s waiting palm and then turned back to the horses. “Shall I round them up myself?”
And so it was that some half hour later, Isis, with Pierre’s offered help, led four horses, dressed in new tack, toward the place where she was to meet her family.
“About my earlier offer,” he said. “Perhaps you and your family could join me for coffee or lunch one afternoon?”
Isis didn’t miss the death rays Medea was casting her way. “I’m afraid we have much work ahead of us and little time for leisure.” The idea of seeing Pierre again made her heart sing, but the thought was folly. “Another time?”
“Of course.” He slanted her a curious smile, seeming to soak in the tension between her and her sisters. “If you change your mind, ask for me at Touze’s tavern. The owner, Nicolas, knows where to find me.”
She gave him a curt nod. “Another time, then.”
Abruptly, he took her hand and kissed it again, her skin growing hot at the point of contact. On a whim, Isis pinched one of his hairs with her opposite hand and plucked it quickly from his head, covering what she’d done by pretending to swat a fly. Nonchalantly, she slid the lock of hair into her pocket.
He handed her the horses’ reins and retreated to where his horse waited for him, leaving her with an odd yearning she didn’t understand. Thankfully, Rhys came out of the general store, arms laden with packages, and Isis turned her full attention on the next steps of their journey.
ChapterThree
Pierre rode toward his home more distracted than he’d ever been. He was, after all, a man of science, normally logical, analytical, not often preoccupied with flights of fancy. But when he’d seen her standing by the horses and she’d introduced herself as Isis—by God, she shared a name with a goddess—he’d been instantly enchanted. Her silken black hair cascaded down a spine that was ramrod straight, as if her posture had joined forces with her lifted chin to show the world she was impervious, collected, and confident. If the night itself had poured out of a crack in the afternoon sky and formed into a woman, she would be Isis.
He’d had no business with Martin. He needed another horse like he needed a hole in the head. But he couldn’t stop himself from going to her. When she turned, those blue eyes seemed to ignite a fire within him. Strange and mysterious, the woman was unusually beautiful. How did one who’d reached maturity and traveled across the ocean maintain unblemished skin with such a healthy vibrance? Then there was her wealth and circumstances. The amount of coin she carried was highly uncommon. A shortage of coin currency in the colonies meant that even the wealthy had resorted to promissory notes. Considering she was an unmarried woman, she must either come from old money or unusual beginnings indeed to carry such a purse.
On the continent, such a thing might not have caught his attention, but here where the population was made up of a concoction of former criminals, military, slaves, clergy, whores, and the occasional scientist such as himself, why would a wealthy family send a daughter to such a place? Isis certainly did not fit the demographic. She was no whore or slave, that was for sure. Her complexion spoke to a Mediterranean heritage, as did her dark hair. Those blue eyes, however, they were the uncommon, deep blue he’d only ever witnessed among northern Europeans. She was a rare beauty, a woman of prime marriageable age. In any other place, she would be wooed by wealthy aristocrats.
Unless she was here because she was running from something. He frowned. Or, like himself, drawn to the promise of discovering something new. Was it possible that Isis Tanglewood was a kindred spirit, an explorer, a scientist?
“Monsieur Baron, we’ve placed your shipment on the terrace as you requested,” his servant Allyette said. The woman was used to strange shipments coming in and out of his home, which she’d nicknamedMaison de Nuit, House of Night. Pierre had architected and erected the buildings at the request of the Royal Academy of Sciences, who wished him to conduct research on the natural history of the area. Pierre did run several experiments out of the laboratory within, but it was the two large alcoves built into the second floor he was most excited about. He’d created the first celestial observatory in the colonies, and today, his pursuits were about to experience a major upgrade.
He dismounted his horse and handed the reins to his stableboy before striding inside and up to the second floor. Excitedly, he pried the lid off the crate that waited for him there, brushing aside handfuls of straw packing material. He wondered at the large glass lens that winked at him in the afternoon light. His colleague from England had come through for him with the experimental design. “Monsieur Hall, you’ve outdone yourself.”
Carefully, he removed the pieces from the crate, assembling them with the screws and bolts provided. His heart pounded as the telescope came together. As soon as this night, he’d be able to watch the stars as no one before him had ever done, not from here anyway. Natural history was a noble pursuit, to be sure, but the real advancement of man would surely come from astronomy. Could there be a more important field of study? Already he’d improved naval navigation in this new port city using rudimentary, antiquated tools. This telescope? This could change everything.
He completed the assembly, positioning the telescope atop a wrought-iron tripod he’d had made for the alcove, and focused the lens on the Vieux Carré, being that the sun was far too bright to look at the sky. He made the final adjustments and was delighted with how close everything looked and in such fine detail. Why, he could see a cat on the garden wall as far as the Rue de Bienville on the other end of the square!
Entranced by this, he hardly noticed when Allyette burst in, babbling something about an unexpected guest. “What’s that?” Pierre mumbled, his attention completely focused on the telescope.
“Never mind. I’ll take it from here,” a familiar male voice said.
Pierre removed his eye from the viewer and straightened, muffling a groan. Forcing himself to smile, he pivoted to face Governor Étienne Perier, who loomed in his doorway dressed in his tailored blue jacket and tan breeches. Pierre thought he must be dreadfully hot in the getup, but it was Étienne’s way to always appear the height of propriety and discipline, a habit he’d learned as a French naval officer. Étienne was an old friend and part of the reason Pierre enjoyed his position, but his timing couldn’t be worse.
“What can I do for you, Governor?” Pierre asked.
“We’re alone, my friend. No need for formality. Call me Étienne.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Étienne?”
He tapped the crate with the toe of his boot. “First, you can describe the purpose of this strange contraption you’ve assembled.” He strode to Pierre’s side and grabbed the tube roughly, sending Pierre’s heart into a gallop.
“Please, sir, it is a delicate instrument—a telescope, meant to be used to observe the position of the stars.”
Étienne scoffed. “For what purpose?”
“To observe and record how their location changes throughout the year.”
The other man gave a low and haughty laugh. “And this is a serious scientific pursuit?”
“Surely, as a former navy lieutenant general, you must appreciate the need for accurate maps of the heavens to aid in navigation.”
“Yes, yes, of course, but those maps already exist, Pierre. We in la Nouvelle-Orléans have much more pressing and important matters, pursuits that a man with many talents such as your own could contribute to our new parish.”
