“Is it always like this?” Regan asked, half in horror.
“Most of the time. There are an awful lot of people to feed.” She started to untie her apron. “I need to cut some herbs, and maybe you’d like a little tour before supper. If you’re not too tired.”
“I slept most of the way here,” Regan smiled. “And I’d love to see the…the plantation.”
Later, Regan didn’t believe anything could have prepared her for what Nicole showed her. A man hitched a two-wheel wagon for them, and Nicole drove them about the plantation, pointing out each of the dependencies. Regan had been right in her first estimation. The plantation was a village of sorts, but all owned by one man. Nearly everything needed for living was made, grown, or caught on the plantation. Nicole pointed out the dairy, dovecote, loom house, stables, tannery, and carpenter shop, and around the kitchen was a smokehouse, malt house, and wash house. Nicole showed her the acres and acres of fields planted with cotton, flax, wheat, and tobacco. And across the river was a mill where their grain was ground. Cattle, sheep, and horses grazed in separate areas.
“And you manage all of this?” Regan asked in wonder.
“Clay helps some, too,” Nicole laughed, “but, yes, it takes a lot of work. We don’t get away much, but then we don’t have to since everything we could ever want is right here.”
“You’re very happy, aren’t you?”
“I am now,” Nicole answered. “But it hasn’t always been easy.” Her eyes went to the mill across the river. “Clay and Travis have been friends since they were boys, and I hope we’ll be friends too.”
“I have never had a girlfriend,” Regan said, looking at this woman who was the same small size she was. They had no idea what a striking pair they made, Nicole with her black hair, and Regan’s dark brown with its red-gold highlights.
“Neither have I,” Nicole said. “Not a real girlfriend I could talk to and confide in.” With a smile she flicked the reins, and the horse started to move. “Someday, when we have a lot of time, I’ll tell you how I met Clay.”
Blushing, Regan thought that she could never, never tell anyone how she met Travis. For one thing, no one would believe her story.
“I’m hungry. How about you?” Nicole asked. “And I can feel that those babies of mine are about to starve.”
“And without a doubt Travis is hungry,” Regan laughed.
“Is she as young as she looks?” Clay asked, jostling his son on his arm and looking through the window at Nicole and Regan pulling away from the house in the buggy.
“Would you believe I don’t know how old she is? And that is one question I’m afraid to ask. It’d be my luck that she’d turn out to be sixteen.”
“Travis, what on earth are you talking about? How did you meet her? Couldn’t you have found out from her parents how old she was?”
Travis had no intention of telling the story to anyone. Years ago, when Clay’s older brother James was alive, he might have confided in him, but now he couldn’t bring himself to tell of kidnapping his wife.
Clay seemed to understand, for there were things he didn’t want to tell about himself—and what had gone on between him and Nicole. “Is she always so quiet? I don’t mean to pry, but the two of you seem an incongruous pair.”
“She can hold her own,” Travis smiled, eyes twinkling. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what she’s like. She seems to change every minute. One moment she’s a little girl with dreams of romance, and the next she’s….” His voice trailed off as he remembered early this morning, her lips moving up his inner thigh. “Whatever she is, I find her fascinating.”
“And what about Margo? I don’t believe she’s going to be too happy to welcome your little wife.”
“I can handle Margo,” Travis said in dismissal.
Old memories, only half-healed, clouded Clay’s eyes. “Watch her with your wife. A woman like Margo eats sweet little things like Regan for breakfast. I know,” he added softly.
“Margo can’t do a damned thing, and I’ll let her know it. I’ll be around to protect my wife, and Regan ought to know what I feel about her. I married her, didn’t I?”
Clay didn’t say any more. There was a time when people had given him advice, but he hadn’t listened, and he knew how easily marriage vows could be made—and just as easily broken.
That night, as Regan slipped into the canopied bed beside her husband, she told him some of her impressions of the day. “I never knew anything like this existed. It’s as if Clay and Nicole were the sole owners of an entire town.”
He pulled her close to him. “Then you like our plantation system?” he murmured, relaxing into sleep.
“Of course, but I am glad there aren’t many of them. I don’t see how Nicole can run a place this size. Thank heavens you are just a poor farmer.”
When she received no reply, she looked over at Travis and saw that he was asleep. Smiling, she snuggled closer to him and drifted into a quiet, gentle sleep.
The next morning parting was surprisingly difficult as they all stood on the wharf and said goodbye. Nicole promised to visit Regan very soon and to give her any help she could. Clay and Travis exchanged comments about this year’s crops, and then all too soon they were climbing into the little boat and heading upriver.
Regan found she was very excited about seeing the place where Travis lived and wondered if it could possibly be as big and wild and crude as he was. She hoped she could refine his home as she wanted to refine him.